


A Conflict of Hope

by MinawaKitten



Series: Tales of Eorzea [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Polyamory, also rammbroes is DAD; graha totally called him dad on accident once, daren has a lot of bfs and two of them date eachother, my lore is ymithra and graha are friends and she affectionately bullies him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinawaKitten/pseuds/MinawaKitten
Summary: The concept of hope is never straightforward. One's idea can clash with another person's and from that a war can be waged atop the Seat of Sacrifice.A mini-series about the climax of the 5.3 patch + what follows---in which i have fun with the concept where two beings of hope ideal's clash + i shower my boy with love
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Gaia/Ryne | Minfilia, OC/OC, Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: Tales of Eorzea [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405534
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ive been writing this since i finished the patch, which was basically 11am of the day of release, i finished part 1 the other day so i decided to release this; with my usual content its self indulgent and SUPER VERY magical bullshit -- it spoils some content for the eventual shb arc of tales of eorzea but let me live

“You cannot banish me.” She simply states, her fingers daintily wrapped around the neck of her staff. A laugh escapes as she watches the expressions change upon the face of the warrior before her. 

“Allow me to explain,” She takes the skirt of her Neo-Ishardian gown into her hands and curtseys. “My name is Khrystie Melody, the people of Hylden bestowed a title upon me; The Warrior of Hope. . .” She releases her skirt and an almost smug, animalistic grin splits across her face. “Do you know _why_ they gave me such a title?”

The Warrior of Light does not speak, simply clenching his jaw and taking a swing at her, but unlike her allies, she remains in place, her clothes simply rustled by her wind. Her smirk is everlasting as she slams her staff against the crystallized floor.

For a moment he falters. It’s perfectly clear that this woman has ties to the Scions and has for a while but, despite that, there is not a single scrap of information about her. And yet, every Scion has attributed the destruction of the Ultima Weapon, the end of the Dragonsong War, the Liberation of Ala Mhigo and Doma to _her_ . There should be information on her -- _anything_ \-- but nothing existed.

She was formless. Ambiguous. Nonsensical. 

And it was slowly becoming more and more apparent that she’s been intentionally holding back the full extent of her power all this time. He can _see it._ This magic within her is unfathomable. It appears like a jar that’s ready to shatter as it reaches its limits. . . but she does not break. 

No. This magic begins to thread itself through her hair, extending the length of sparkling pearly white hair to reach the floor, where it ignites with a passion in a calm flurry of white flames that leave behind no scars or damage. 

And yet, the secrets of this woman’s nature continue to reveal themselves. The flames of her hair envelopes her body, altering her clothes to silken robes that are befitting someone of a high standing -- almost a _holy_ standing -- and one by one wings appear, giving her a total of six and a three ringed halo positions itself behind her head, almost giving their illusion of the rising sun following behind her.

“Because I hold that title as _the_ Goddess of Hope.”   
  


* * *

That. . . That has to be the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard!

 _He_ is hope incarnate!

 _He_ is the symbol of the people's hopes and dreams!

For someone like _her_ to wield such a title is an insult to everything he’s ever fought for!

* * *

  
“Do not make me laugh!” He snarls, readying his blade once more. “I shall extinguish that foolish flame before it can truly burn!”

“I think not.” She smiles in a sickeningly sweet and innocent way. As if on cue, glyphs appear on the floor a familiar intricate pattern that indicates a summoning of great skill was occuring. “My wonderful Warriors have returned, after all.”

And then. . . a single Amaurot appears in the center of the glyph, signaling they’re the one behind this summon much to both of their surprise. How curious. No words are exchanged as they gaze upon Elibius’s Warrior of Light appearance -- perhaps with remorse in their eyes -- while they look on in disbelief. 

The Amaurot raises their hand and with a single snap of their fingers and a flash of light, the six chosen and her two bodyguards return to the battleground -- a single individual standing within a smaller circle attached to the larger one where this Amaurot stood. 

The tall being still has nothing to say and yet, to the utter shock and surprise of everyone present, the Amaurot turns away flippantly waving them all off in an all too familiar way as they fade away.

Hades. 

It was fucking Hades.

For his wish was carved into the star that belonged to a long lost -- yet still present friend -- and it was received by them all. A prayer to save Elibius; so saving them from damnation in the void was an all too simple task for him to perform in exchange.

“To me! Warriors of Light!” The Warrior of Light booms. Sword and shield in hand, he raises his blade to the sky from whence a blue beam of light shoots from the tip. The blue light bursts into an explosion of white, which in turn releases several beams of golden light, that impact with the ground behind the Warrior of Light, revealing a seven warrior lineup composed of a White Mage, Black Mage, Warrior, Dark Knight, Ninja, Bard and a Summoner.

“I am Salvation given form. . . Mankind’s first hero . . . and his final hope!” The Warrior of Light exclaims, pointing his blade to the nine villains before him. The seven phantoms of light follow this motion by brandishing and readying their own weapons with a battle cry. “For victory, I render my all!”

“Hope does not simply end. There is no final hope.” Khrystie calmly returns with a smile as butterflies of white light seemingly flock to her out of nowhere. She is unbothered by this development, even allowing one to perch upon fingers, the kindness upon her face never leaving for a moment. “You made feed off it, claiming this power as your own and in doing so you fail to understand the majesty of hope itself.” 

Yes, she gained power from hope -- a truly undeniable aspect of her role and existence -- but that hope was not hers to keep. She was to foster it. To protect it. And to witness it utilized to protect those she loves always captivated her. . . And the Ascians were not different from those she usually blessed or gave second chances as they too wanted to return home with those they loved dearly; _but_ if that hope came at the price of innocent people, it was not something she could not let pass.

She gently raises her staff, urging the butterflies to take flight. These hopes and dreams belonging to denizens of millions upon billions of worlds heed her command and proceed to rest upon the shoulders of her warriors, revitalizing and imbuing them with the power of hope itself. Prepared and ready, the chosen of the Source ready their own weapons -- a pair of tonfas, pair of tantos, a weathered labrys, a heavy duty greatsword, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a staff, a star globe, and a pair of chakrams -- all bathed in the light of hope.

“Silence! Your demise shall be our salvation.” Elibius booms, his specters of light vanishing until the moment he needed to call for them in combat. “For my people -- nay, for our world, I shall strike you down! This shall be our final conflict, this I promise!”

“That it shall.” She conseeds. The Warrior of Light brings his sword and shield together as if he was activating his stance and his specters vanish for the moment, taking the form of several golden spheres that rotate around him, and there’s a sudden influx of power pouring off him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four?

Four Limit Break bars?!

“He’s releasing a fully loaded four bar Limit Break?!” Khrystie sputters in surprise. Her comrades look to her with equal surprise, utterly floored by the notion. They have seen enemies pull an entire three bar break out of their asses before but four was most certainly pushing the limit.

“That’s fine!” Scarlett exclaims, their chakrams dancing on the tips of their fingers. “We just need bigger shields, right?”

“Alright,” Shinjiro grunts, releasing a wave of energy so they could shake off whatever the Ascian-turn-Primal was going to throw at them next. “Malari, you’re up.” 

“Fuck OFFFFF with your light!” Is all Mel has to say about the current situation, genuinely pissed off that a Primal was pulling off a four goddamn LB bar charged attack. The response got a chuckle out of his two co-workers at the very least.

Shoving aside his anger for the moment, he proceeds to swing his great sword to slice through the air, creating a rift where darkness pours to pool around their feet. Clenching his gauntlet clad fist, sparks of red energy run forth and he slams said fist against the ground, reconfiguring the darkness into a large safety net. “Pirated light bullshit.” He mutters under his breath -- which gets him looks of exasperation from most and a few chuckles from others.

Regardless of his antics, the two healers step up next, Dante acts fast, drawing an entire sleeve of cards before reconfiguring his Sect to Neutral and extending his arms, creating a force field. Kokoto lifts her staff into the air as translucent white wings burst from her backside and the Lalafel proceeds to enhance her co-healer’s shield with the use of the spell Asylum, further bolstering their defenses. All they can do is anticipate the fall out of the Ascian’s attack.

The moment comes not seconds later. 

The Warrior of Light moves like a blur, his blade cutting through the air, producing rings of magic which are only embolden by him jumping into the air and stabbing his blade into the ground with a burst of light. For a moment, they can very clearly see the sigil of the Ascian’s mask -- or rather his Amaurot crest? -- and then there is white.

Blinded by the light the two healers take action, releasing a series of soothing spells to recover that near death experience, even producing some more shields to prepare for whatever the Primal would throw next.

Khrystie waves her staff, bestowing the warriors with a boon of her own -- enough borrowed aether to fully fill a three Limit Bars to transcend and deliver an attack with the intent to cripple the enemy right off the bat. Sho gladly takes advantage of that; running up to the enemy with murderous intent, his hands moving faster than they could blink in order to call forth the skill Chimatsuri.

Blue flames ignite at his feet and several blades of pure aether, wreathed in flames, rise from the crystal ground of the tower. The blades are immediately launched at the Warrior with a murderous intent. . . and it happens so fast that they’re all dumbfounded.

. . . The Warrior of Light withstands the Limit Break.

“ARE YOU S H I T T I N G M E ?!” Sho screams in a righteous fury.

“He fucking used Hollowed Ground?!” Mel shouts back, absolutely disgusted by the blocking of the Limit Break. It's honestly a first and not something he ever bothered to predict or view using his powers over time itself. He never thought it could happen. The fact the bastard looks so smug and proud of himself -- like a cat that knows it’s victorious -- doesn't help at all. Quite frankly he just wants to break his legs over that.

“Be frugal with this one then.” Khrystie simply comments, her eyes locked with the foe before them as she delivers another boon to her comrades with no negative repercussions to herself.

“She’s right.” Scarlett nods. “If he can block Sho, he can probably block any other one we can dish out -- other than a Healer or a Tank.”

“Save it for emergencies, got it.” Shinjiro nods, activating Defiance. A swirl of purple, lightning based energy surrounds him and his eyes flash a dangerous shade of red. Immediately, the gaze of the Warrior of Light is drawn to him -- as expected with activating a Tank Stance -- but he doesn't make the first move, instead waiting for everyone else to voice their ready to tackle this; For they’ve faced many Primals together before but this was something very different.

“Let’s fuck him up.” Tifa rather loudly states, making her intentions rather clear. Scarlett nods his head, focusing his fire aspected Aether upon his charged chakrams. The flames meet the hope magic and create a union that allows the metal to be set aflame without hurting the owner or damaging the blades themselves and his attack potential is even further bolstered by the Spire Card blessed upon him. 

Teeth clenched, Scarlett leaps forward, sending his flaming weapons into a direct collision with the Warrior of Light’s face. To the surprise of the Primal, these blades cause much more damage than they did before, deeply slicing the skin of his cheek and the wound begins to fester and burn with an unimaginable fire unlike any he's ever experienced. 

For a moment, he’s taken aback.  
  


* * *

  
Could the power of the so-called Warrior of Hope be true? 

That she is indeed some sort of God to bestow this power upon the Warriors with such grace and ease?

No. 

Those were the ramblings of an insane woman. It had to be. 

And he would prove it with the defeat of her precious warriors.   
  


* * *

Aether flows, a limit is transcended once more.

A series of ink black claws sparking with energy rise from the ground, sinking their claws into their bodies, draining them of heath. Scarlett gracefully dances around his allies, the healing touch of the Waltz Dance restoring some vitality to them. Twirling on the tip of her toes, Kokoto lifts her staff to unleash the Assize spell to both heal and harm -- a notion Dante follows by setting an Earthly Star and instantly releasing Stellar Detonation -- and the two work in tandem to fully heal the entirety of their group as the remaining individuals proceed to wail on the Warrior of Light.

Pulling an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back, the tip becomes aspected with Wind Aether and the poison stored in the arrow head activates thanks to the connection to the wind crystal bestowed to him. Daren finds himself rather thankful he can exploit the crystal in this fashion -- after all, he was only using these Eorzian arrows because it’s what Guydelot got him to practice with. They, ultimately, don’t mesh well with the magic potential dwelling within but they work well enough on this basic level.

Truth be told, archery still fills Daren with apprehension despite the progress he’s made with his recovery since his time as Garlean PoW, but because his wife called for his aid -- proving her boundless love and trust in him yet again -- he refuses to back down. 

And with that, he lets the arrow fly, impacting the Warrior of Light’s shoulder. The arrow does not pierce the armor, as expected, but it does it’s work unleashing a torrent of violent wind, causing the Primal to drop it’s blade. A hint of a smile appears on the catboy’s face, only to falter as he sees the rage the other is directing his way. 

The Warrior of Light transcends his limits once more and Daren can feel something changing in the air. Numerous circles of light under his feet and panic immediately sinks its claws into him. There’s no way he can avoid all of these at once -- whatever the hell this spell is -- while his brain completely blanks on the old Repelling Shot in his arsenal. Thankfully, before his own anxieties could consume him whole or end up critically injured, he feels a tug at his waist and he’s pulled from the site of the impact. 

A surprised shout escapes him as he flies through the air, away from the multiple blades that were to impale him and impacts into something soft. Something very soft, warm and familiar. . . Most importantly, safe. His ruby red eyes open to be face of face with his beloved wife. She places him back down on his feet before using a simple wind spell for the mundane task of bringing his hat back to him.

“Take care Daren,” Khrystie smiles, her face serene, gentle and oh so loving. She gently placed his hat back upon his head, taking care to ensure the silver chains and charms aren’t in his hair before giving him the kindest words a man like him has no business to accept. “I believe in you.” The delivery of her words melts his entire being and his heart swells with happiness and utter joy. With his cheeks flushed red, he nods his head and tightens his tight grip around his bow -- returning to the foray, renewed and eager to combat, oblivious to the white butterfly tailing after him.

Within that brief moment between husband and wife, the Warrior noted with surprise that a number of attacks grew much more violent intent. As if these pests were genuinely upset that one of their comrades was almost harmed. 

No. It was more than that. 

Going for the Bard was being deemed as a personal affront. This was a violent retaliation for attacking a member of their so-called ‘clan’. It was such an ugly ferocity but who were they to exert such power? What have they lost to respond in kind to the mere threat of losing someone?

* * *

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Such pitiful lifeforms have lost absolutely nothing in their fleeting lives.  
  


* * *

The spiral of hatred and fury comes to a halt the moment a Six-Sided Star makes an impact with his wrist. The Primal howls in agony, his wrist shattered from the sheer force of the attack, which additionally cracked the crystal underneath his fallen form. Above him Tifa Vanderblit gazes upon him like his dirt under the heel of her bhikkhu boots. Such a disgusting look for a vile being.

Snarling, he pounds his remaining functioning fist against the ground, causing several sections of the crystal ground to suddenly propel upwards, which in turn sends her flying into the air with the sheer force. Thankfully, she is lassoed over to the side of Dante Velia before she could hit the ground. She passes along a simple thank you as he turns his attention to the others in order to heal them after that attack.

It was brief, but it was a moment where neither side could attack while the spectral Lalafell White Mage was healing the shattered Warrior’s hand. Tifa’s face scrunches up, very clearly speaking volumes of how she found that to be annoying. The spirits that came to the Warrior of Light’s aid were incomplete summons, meaning they cannot exist for long periods of time before taking the base orb-like form that follows the Primal, which in turn means they cannot simply beat and remove them from the equation -- they always come back healed and ready to fight unfortunately.

The only choice they truly had was to swiftly and decisively take down the Primal itself. Especially since he was still holding onto the Exarch’s vessel and the stress on the tower would soon get to him. The thought, however, is put to the side for the moment as the Primal’s blade begins to move on it’s own, digging into the uneven ground and leaving behind a bright illuminated light to seep from the trail it’s carved.

Figuring out where the sword intends to go is complicated enough, even more so as more swords join the effort to carve apart the ground. Everyone scatters on Scarlett’s warning to avoid the areas that look like complete shapes. Given the twitch to the Primal’s face, perhaps he was onto something there.

But there is far too little time to think about that as the star shaped pattern unleashes an incredibly blinding light that is strangely accompanied by a . . . draconic roar. The light fades to reveal the Summoner has taken the stage with their own shade of Bahamut, poised and ready to attack. The group immediately scatters to avoid the flames as the dragonic summons performs a spiral dive, this ultimately provides no time to properly prepare for when the Warrior’s transcendent past his limits once more.

He raises a rod of pure aether bathed in heavenly magic into the air, the world rumbles and the ground shakes as four large meteors begin their descent. 

“Jesus Christ.” Sho wheezes. This isnt the necessarily the worse meteor based attack he’s dealt with, much less seen. The worst was the one large enough to shatter a world with the impact alone, but that was only one meteor. While these ones are smaller, four is quite a sum to have impact in one spot.

“Very well.” Khrystie sighs. “I shall take care of them.” She taps the bottom of her staff against the ground, causing a shift in her form. The three sets of wings that follow her form fade away, reformatting themselves into three pairs of arms made from pure magical energy. These arms fade from her backside to rise up from the crystal ground, each grasping a meteor and crushing them their monstrous grip. 

Khrystie raises her staff to give the silent instruction for the debris to attack the remaining meteor. The sheer force of the debris, charged by her magical power, makes for quite an explosion in the air. Without pause she gathers the debris once more and swings her staff in the direction of the enemy; the charged rock proceeds to pelt the Primal, quickly burying it under the smoldering oppressive weight.

They all know this simply isn't the end, leaving them to restlessly wait. For protective measurements shields are raised but it proves to not be enough once the Primal emerges with an explosion of aether, automatic crossbow in each hand. There is absolutely no hesitation when he pulls the triggers, blasting a multitude of aetheric arrows that they can feel sapping energy from them, leaving them utterly vulnerable to the _second_ blast of arrows.

“He’s fucking cheating!” Mel screams in rage, giving the Primal a gauntlet clad middle finger. “You can’t _split_ a fcuking LB!” The smug look on the Primal’s face very clearly spelled out ‘yes I can’. The smugness of that expression only enraged him further. 

Nevertheless, this double blast of aetheric arrows completely throws them all about, knocking most of them off their feet and for that moment. Singed and flesh burning, the warriors lay strewn out on the floor at the feet of the Primal, who was certain he won this battle . . . and yet. . . 

“I beseech thee!” Khrystie shouts, lifting her staff into the air with a dramatic flourish. “Dilaria!” With the call of the legendary dragon’s name, the crystals in her staff begin to glow a pink hue that matches the goddess-turn-dragon’s scales. Somehow, despite all her failures before, she’s managed to successfully channel the goddess’s powers. She has no time to dwell on how thankful or amazing this moment is, only she must act before she falters and loses her concentration. “O great Mother of the Cosmos! Come to the aid of thy child and reverse the flow of Time!”

* * *

That's. . . That’s completely nonsensical!

She couldn’t really think she could do that--!!

* * *

And Yet.

> The automatic crossbows are in his hands once more.
> 
> The arrows return to their loaded state.
> 
> The Primal is buried under rubble once more.

Time has truly reversed before his very eyes. 

“Split into groups!” Scarlett orders, moving to the left of the Primal with Mel, Dante and Sho on his heels as he performs a simple Samba Dance. Red dances around their forms to bolster defenses, which is furthered by Shinjiro -- who leads Daren, Tifa and Kokoto to the right of the Primal -- as he prepares the ‘Shake Off’.

The Primal is nothing but rage as he bursts from the rubble, crossbows loaded. Everything he’s worked for is becoming unraveled before his eyes. He swore to them! Whoever. . . Whoever they may be that he would make things right!

So why is his efforts falling apart before this woman and this horrible fragmented sham of a group she’s put together?! He has no idea but that look in her eyes -- calm, poise and grace as she calculates -- as her warriors rally around her is driving him insane. 

Some sort of animalistic scream tears from his throat as he recklessly pulls the trigger once more, but given the preparation placed into preparing for this attack, the previous disastrous impact is completely lost and the warriors are able to bounce right back.

* * *

No.

He cannot -- _will not_ \-- stand for this.

He refuses to let them win.

After everything they’ve robbed from him -- from his people, his friends, his family -- he will not let them know the satisfaction of victory! They shall die! All of them will! 

This shard and every other one to exist and with it, his people will finally know peace and salvation after it was unfairly torn from their grasp so many lifetimes ago.

* * *

“Warriors! To me!” He shouts, lifting his blade to the sky once again. The golden orbs that circle his body fly up into the sky for a number of them to descend. The first to appear is the archer -- an Elzen-like woman -- with her brown drawn. She looks up to the sky and unleashes a single arrow. The arrow shoots up into the air before coming down, the aetheric properties split unleashing a rainfall of arrows upon them all.

Most are avoided but what little damage is obtained is cleared away with soothing healing magic. However there’s no rest for the weary as two Lalafell-like individuals appear next, a Black Mage and a White Mage, with their staffs raised high. Sho makes a few hand motions and slaps his palm against the ground under the Warrior of Light, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move front that position if he honestly intended to consecutively summon his spectral warriors -- making it a perfect spot to lay a Doton. 

With the corrupted earth festering under the feet of the Primal, Sho happens a glance to the sky and he realizes what the two mages are doing. By combining their magic, the conflicting Aether has produced small flaming masses that are starting to descend on the battleground -- a small impromptu meteor shower.

“Incoming meteors!” He shouts, bolting across the area to position himself in a spot where he could soak up the damage. 

Knowing of Sho’s immortal nature the remaining three DPSes ran in the other direction to take care of the other meteor. In doing so Daren returns his bow to its static form and pulls the specially prepared violin bow from his quiver to perform a marching song -- Troubadour -- to help weather the upcoming storm as the healers were heavily occupied. With a deep breath, Tifa slams her feet against the ground, unleashing a golden light that further boosted defenses with the Riddle of Earth. Scarlett quickly joins them, blades dancing in the tips of his fingers in anticipation but fate quickly proved it has more for them to deal with than just a meteor.

“Return to the depths you’ve crawled from!” The Dark Knight booms rushing towards the trio with his greatsword raised. There’s a brief moment of panic among the three as they struggle to figure out how to block the attack but Scarlett lunges forward, using his chakrams to lock the blade in place before it could come down.

Thankfully, Mel intervenes by slamming his entire weight -- armor and all -- into the enemy knight and the two of them tumble down to the ground. Both knights quickly rise to their feet once more and their greatswords clash in a power struggle.

A very similar scene happens on the other side of the battleground where Shinjiro swings and slams the blunt end of his weapon into the chest of the spectral Warrior. Enemy or not, he rather not _hurt_ his enemy in this situation as they’re a victim of Elidibus’s manipulation to defeat them. As the Ascisn explained it, he simply whispered into the Aether and told them a tale that _they_ wanted to destroy their worlds and way of life, and completely neglecting to mention that’s his stick.

What an asshole.

Regardless, the pairs weather the first wave of meteors but they continue to rain down, causing them to change position yet again but it’s the arrival of the Summoner that complicates the situation. The Hyur-like woman grins, flipping her book open and summoning forth _four_ shades of a creature that looks like Bahamut. The shades immediately lock eyes with a single DPS, something rather nerve wracking to endure as the meteors continue their downfall.

“We have time before they fire.” Daren uneasily gulps as he attached his bow to his backside. “It’s not the same as the Bahamut summon I have but it seems to function the same.” A moment of silence passes and he uneasily adds ‘I think’. “Usually, the discolored patches of scales illuminate before it uses a spell.” And given this shade was a much darker color with patches of blue scales it would be much easier to judge when it was ready to attack. Daren glances back to the two beside him as he explains the next plan of action. “Either way, it attacks in a cone, so, if we bait one shade into attacking one corner, the center would be clear and then we could help Mel and Shinjiro.”

“I’ll go tell him then.” Scarlett offers.

Very well.” Tifa nods. The three proceed to huddle together as the explosive aether looms over them and once it makes contact, it proceeds to explode -- leaving their ears ringing and their minds a bit scattered. Scarlett immediately bursts from the dust, speeding across the arena with the assistance of Ev Avant, his body moving in elegant and graceful motions to a Standard Step. As he passes the dueling Dark Knights he passes Closed Position to his boyfriend and completes his Standard Finish to assist him somehow. This only manages to distract the enemy Dark Knight for a moment, earning quite the glare from him, but Mel quickly gets his attention once more with a punch to the enemy’s helm. 

Back at the other side of the battleground Tifa shakes her head to clear up her head before taking Daren by his wrist and leading him to the site of the nearest approaching meteor. The catboy couldn’t help the thousand fears and anxieties that swam through his head as the gaze of the Bahamut shades followed them. The imposing shape and aura was just like his Bahamut summon, meaning it was a fair assumption that a failure to properly examine the summon would seriously hurt them all, but what the extent of the similarities _is_ just size and shape? 

What if his predictions and assessments are completely wrong? What if it knows something more potent than Deathflare or Ahk Morn? What if--?

The way Tifa’s hand curls around his own -- so kindly and gently -- giving it an affectionate squeeze pulls him from his chaotic mindset. There’s a moment of hesitation on his behalf but the look in her eyes and yet, how she tightly holds onto his hand speaks so much to him.

It’s unshakable trust. Not one forged from the past life they share, but one they share as husband and wife in this current life as members of the Melody Clan. One that says despite his anxieties and fears, she believes in his judgement. A smile makes its way to his face and he nods his head in return, holding onto her hand.

The meteor approaches just as Dante glides by, his star globe glittering in the air as he unleashes a healing spell to top off their vitality to endure what is coming next. Daren can't help but worry a bit, Dante may be a healer but they both know his skills are best suited for combat. Truth be told, coming to Eorzea has forced him to essentially reformat his skills to better suit healing as no one else has such an ability. . . 

Furthermore, his potential is currently capped thanks to the Demon Contract he forged with Khrystie years ago. He doesn't know the details of said contract -- which is fair, it’s their secret -- but it’s been hinted at more than once that it was hastily forged and not . . . the best due to the circumstances around the time for making said contract. If he could convince Khrystie to release the seals on Dante’s power, perhaps he could land an incredibly powerful attack on the Primal before it could properly understand the change in energy around him. . . but the trade off would be Dante himself. While this wouldn't kill him, it would most likely put him out of commission for the rest of the battle, thus forcefully removing one healer from the equation and they couldn't thrust the duty of healing all of them on Kokoto -- she would most likely complain but accept it, but he doesn't want to leave her in such a situation. 

Eyes darting from the approaching meteor, to Dante and to the green stone he's withdrawn from his pocket he finds himself frowning a bit. While yes, he could use his Scholar stone, the problem comes from the unfortunate fact that it’s been a while since he’s used it -- really any Job outside Dancer and Bard -- and this really isn't the time or place to be clunky with his skills. 

“Something seems to be on your mind darling,” Comes Khrystie’s kind and soothing voice. Daren and Tifa reel around to be greeted by the sight of their goddess wife. She continues to smile, lifting her staff with grace and, rather easily, taps it against the meteor, causing it to detonate in the air. “Why don’t you tell me about it.” She proposes as the explosion ruffles her clothes, her expression still nothing but a kind smile and warmth in her eyes. Perhaps, if he wasn’t so in love with his wife, he would have found her absolute calmness to be terrifying. And yet, how could he not love that aspect of her? The calmness and kindness in the heat of battle, it all came from her ability to understand her foes and find rational behind actions.

. . . And even he can understand why Elibius has been pushed to this position. To lose all you love and the utter desperation that is born from the desire to save and restore what you lost. It is truly tragic. It will never undo what he’s done but he can _understand_ it.

So he tells his wife of his idea. She listens with rapt attention, nodding her head.

“Very well, take care in pointing those shades away.” Both Daren and Tifa nod their head before taking off -- Daren heading northeast while Tifa heads southeast. On the other side of the area Scarlett and Sho do their job, pointing the shades northwest and southwest respectively. The chest of the shades puff up, it head tilts back and the colored patch of scales glow an illuminated bright blue.

“Now!”

The shade spews it’s scorching flames in a cone but by that time everyone has already scattered. Daren runs as fast as he could with the assist of Peloton, Tifa propelling herself at the spectral Warrior with the use of a Shoulder Tackle, while Sho performs Shukuchi to reach the center and Scarlett glides to his partner’s side with Ev Avant. With that, the shades vanished and they’ve successfully avoided any serious damage. Once more Daren pulls his violin bow from his quiver and performs a song -- Army's Paeon -- to help bolster attack as they proceed to unleash all they have on the two spectral Tanks. With all the additional damage they dished out the Tanks’ defense quickly crumbled, leaving behind only the Ninja. Face obscured but the way they stood spelled out the rage and anger they beheld before the ‘enemies’ they were fooled into fighting. Perhaps out of desperation or with the use of a glimmering crystal filled with water aether, the wave of water produced by the Suiton they summon forth is so much larger than one Sho himself has created, it drags them across the arena and drenches them to the bone. Without losing momentum they perform the motion for Raiton, calling down a storm of lightning bolts. . . but they suddenly completely avoid the warriors and four silver spears are firmly planted in the ground, redirecting the attacks.

It takes the Primal a moment to understand what even happened. Once more that so-called Goddess has manipulated time for her needs -- stopping it so she could plant lances made from silver of the finest quality to avoid the attack.

* * *

He dares, for a moment, to ponder if this is instead a Primal but that cannot be. Primals follow a simple way of life -- to fulfil the prayers and desires of those who summon them. . . but she completely bypasses all of that with her own hopes and dreams, with her own desires and the ability to sire children.

Things not even he can properly do without taking a vessel. The more he struggles to make sense of this, the more confusing it all becomes. Born from a prayer she may not, but she can take the power born from a prayer and embolden herself with it. She can inspire and lead but without taking away free will.

How can something so alike him be so different? Could this. . . Could her claims truly not be delusion? And instead. . . is this woman a genuine . . . God?   
  


* * *

And thus, she speaks once more, her staff raised up high and at her side the Au Ra male has shed all but his briefs.

> “Venez-moi: J'appel votre vraie forme: Dante Velia, le Dauphin démonique des Enfers des Sept Royaumes!”
> 
> Come to me: I call your true form: Dante Velia, the Demon Prince of The Seven Kingdom’s Infernos!

And with that, the Au Ra unleashes a truly hellish scream. But not of anguish, no, strangely it was a rather joyous one. And then. . . his entire appearance shatters like glass in the most literal of ways. It takes but a moment for the image to reshape itself and far too many seconds to even take in this creature’s new shape. Blue-purple hued skin returns to paler tones, speckled with patches and freckles of white. Black curled horns become beautiful antlers adorned with small colorful flowers and white deer-like ears appear on his head. The lower half of his body even has taken on a likeness to a deer, although much more beastly -- some unique traits were found in how the metatarsals were set aflame with blue fire and the tail was nothing more than a stubby blue flame. A grin flashes across his face, his golden eyes twinkle with danger and he flexes his fingers, elongated by long sharp nails.

Dante Velia had become something so beautiful and yet frightening. 

He propels himself forward, moving with such speed and strength that the crystal floor crumples under his feet. A hoove slams into the neck of the Primal with such force that he slams against the ground and skids across the surface.

* * *

What is going on?! 

It was an Au Ra just a moment ago! He _knows_ what he saw but it makes no sense!

* * *

There’s no such creature among the shards or the Source itself -- and despite the likeness, it was most certainly _not_ a Voidsent. 

Making space between the two of them, Dante crouches for a moment before charging forward once more. The Warrior of Light rises, sword and shield at the ready but Dante’s fist -- wreathed in blue flames -- rather effortlessly creates a dent in the shield of the Primal, making it rather useless. 

The Warrior of Light decides to make use of this by tossing the shield right at Dante, but the demon born prince simply kicks it into the air and for a moment they all watch it fly off into the distance in awe. Dante’s allies let out a loud cheer, which seems to embolden the flames that dance on his metatarsals and fists.

Dante proceeds to raise his fists in a classic upright position associated with a boxer and he strikes with such deftness and speed one would think he vanished for a moment. A fist slams against the helm of the Primal, which is followed up with an uppercut strike to his chin, sending them into a daze for a moment.

It made for a perfect opening to grab the Warrior by the horns of his helm, yanking him down to his height with such force that he fell to his knees and he proceeded to smash their foreheads together.

An attack like that certainly had to leave a concussion. . . However, a demon born prince he is, he is still a man of honor. He takes very little pride in knocking a downed enemy -- even if everyone else is screaming at him to keep going.

“I have pride!” He barks back, his face flushed red. 

“We’re on a time limit Dante.” Khrystie reminds him, her tone flat. He stutters for a moment, reminded that they indeed have a limit. While the magic he holds is indeed his, he doesn't use it in excess often so his body is not particularly prepared for the stress it receives in return. So this requires him to attack quickly and efficiently before he collapses.

“Kick him in the balls.” Tifa tactfully tosses out there.

Such a scary woman. . . 

Nevertheless the banter has given the Warrior the time he needed to gather his bearings and rise once more. Teeth clenched, gauntlet digging into the ground, he readies the sword in his other hand -- fantastical fire Aether engulfing the metal. Immediately everyone makes their way closer to Dante, recalling the radius of the attack and entrusting the fire demon to simply absorb -- perhaps even consume -- the flames. The Warrior strikes, spinning in a complete circle but the flames completely avoid Dante -- as if they were making a perfectly shaped hole for him. He tries to go for the legs next, being all too aware of the strength they possess but the hide. . . It’s too tough to even leave a _godsdamn dent_ \-- to the point that in applying pressure the sword _shatters_.  
  


* * *

  
What. . . what the hell is that _thing_?!

Has all of this. . . been a godsdamned joke to all of them!?

To hold back all this power, to lie about their potential, then to effortlessly throw him around?!

Did this fight mean _anything_ to them?!  
  


* * *

“REPENTEZ-VOUS!” Dante howls. With that demand, his body becomes wreathed in new patches of pale blue flames -- the antlers themselves while the flowers fail to ignite, encircling his wrists and on his chest in the shape that nearly matches the fluffy patch one would see on the chest of a male Veira.

“Take this, a gift from a Lord, A Goddess and a Faith!” He howls, lifting an arm into the air to unleash a beam of fire into the air. Khrystie follows his lead by lifting her staff into the air, holding her hand by the large crystal lily to focus on pouring a large amount of her magic. 

Then, from the heavens, a single beam of light descends, landing directly behind the primal, taking shape of a needle. The light from Khrystie’s staff and Dante’s fire land to the left and right of the Primal follow suit, the raw energy morphing into the shape of a needle. The three forces of magic reach out and connect to each other, creating a giant triangle with the primal in the center.

“From those who shepherd the dead and judge their souls! From those who offer boons to this world and beyond it for life to dwell upon! From those who guard those very souls!”

> “FINALE DU TRIO!”

The triangle lights up, unleashing a large array of holy magics that burns the Primal; armor begins to crack, his hair singes at the tips and his skin burns. Escape is impossible as pillars of fire rise upwards, surrounding him and begin to suffocate him from all sides.

For the briefest of moments, the Primal has the fleeting thought of ‘will I die here?’ before the flames die out. Once the smoke clears, Dante Velia’s form has changed once more -- devoid of power he returned to what could be described as his base form, a very human-like appearance that lacked any of his demonic traits beyond fangs and pointed ears.

Khrystie quickly rescues her partner back to her side, who is immediately gathered in Daren’s arms as he fusses with his Scholar stone in an attempt to ask Eos for help. Tifa takes the coat Shinjiro offers to drape it over Dante’s body while the fairy thankfully heeds her caster’s call and begins to unleash soothing magic to help the demon born prince overcome his exhaustion.

* * *

  
Ah. 

A power that cannot be used without repercussions.

Although it’s given them an advantage it means a loss in combatants

Such a bold and dangerous move, clearly their last hope in this situation.  
  


It shall be their undoing.

* * *

“Now what?” Sho questions, his blades ready to attack once more.

“We make the final shot.” Khrystie simply states, her eyes locked with the Primal's. The look the two of them shared spelled out that they both realized this was the moment that made or break the entire conflict. “He may have given us a run for money in the first half, but we’ve hit back just as hard. We’re both at our limits now.”

The Primal’s Limit Bar hits four once more and he begins to prepare that same heavy attack from earlier although there was a clear desperation in the motions compared to before, ultimately proving what the goddess mentioned.

“He’s firing that big shot again.” Kokoto interrupts. “Safe to assume that’s his final move.”

“Let him fire it.” Khrystie simply smirks. “We have Scarlett.”

“What?!” He incredulously demands.

“It’s time to make use of the boon I left you. Once he attacks, that will be a perfect opportunity to counterattack as he’ll be drained from the large one he just performed.”

“Don’t we need that LB to, you know, not die?” Sho questions, sarcasm dripping from his words. Khrystie rolls her eyes as she lifts her staff, producing a shield. 

“I wouldn’t let Kokoto carry this burden alone. Now, Scarlett, do you trust me?”

Had she asked that to the beginning of everything, he would have said no; for who would believe a woman shrouded in black and spoke in riddles and ambiguity? A woman that broke the seal to Titiana’s door before he could arrive with the items to unseal it himself? A woman that made a show out of kidnapping the Exarch and Minfilia? But after everything they endured on the First, he knows he can trust her without a doubt.

Although strange, her actions were never to mock, insult or even look down on him as he initially thought. She was, and still is, concerned about his safety as she believed if she had the ability to do so, she could -- and would -- carry the burden herself as she’s witnessed so many young heroes crumble under the pressure due to the expectations, betrayals and losses they’ve endured. 

Her intentions were always to protect, to guide and support because the burden that’s been laid on his shoulders as the legacy keeper of Amaurot -- even being the reincarnation of Azem -- is something incredible to carry on his own.

So, does he trust her?

“With my life.”

“Very well,” She smiles, tearing her eyes from the Viera and faces the Primal once more. “Let us all pour our hopes and dreams into this very shield.” She lifts her staff and speaks with such kindness and authority that the world seems to grow still for a moment. “Citizens of the First, I beseech thee! Your hopes. Your dreams. Deliver them to me and I shall take them all to benefit all in need!” 

That stillness is met with something unbelievable; an all encompassing hope, faith and love born from the children of Home, the fae of Il Mheg, to those in Twine and Mord Souq, friends and allies in the Rak’tika Greatwoods, to every soul watching the skyline with anticipation in Elumore and every valiant soul fighting in Lakeland to defend the peace they worked so hard to obtain. And with a prayer of this magnitude for Scarlett Paharo a legion of white butterflies took flight for the Crystal Tower in response to the Goddess’s plea. . . and the Warrior of Light’s spectral warriors leave Elidibius's side to join her.

A furious and so utterly desperate scream rips from the Primal He pours everything -- all he has. _His_ hopes. _His_ dreams. The promise his entire existence was built upon -- into his very attack. With a powerful leap, he comes down and impales his blade into the ground, causing the crystal to crack and shake under their feet. 

For a moment the Goddess’s shield flickers and the Warrior of Light looks triumphant and secure in his victory until both Sho and Mel are the first to step forward, placing their hands against the surface of the shield to keep it steady. 

“You’re gonna have to hit harder if you’re gonna stop Melody’s chosen!” Sho cackles, raw determination in his voice.

“Especially with the future I foresaw!” Mel adds with a laugh. “It was annoying to get to this point but it definitely favored us!” The shield holds its physical form but despite stability obtained the two of them begin to slide backwards to the rest of the group. Still, they're determined to win this so they dig their heels into the crystal ground and their efforts are immediately joined by Shinjiro and Kokoto.

“If you really think you can stop us, you’re really underestimating us!” Shinjiro grins. “You're not the first ye old God bastard I’ve had to deal with!”

“We ‘worthless reflections’ are truly tenacious bastards!” Kokoto hisses between her gritted teeth. “And, quite frankly, I refuse to die at your hands! There are many people I have yet to provide succor to!” The Primal grits his teeth, throwing more force into their attack. The two powers of hope conflict with such magnitude that the ground begins to shatter and the sheer force of it all causes the debris to lift into the air.

“Daren, help me to my feet.” Dante calls. Daren gives him an odd look but Dante simply smiles, taking his husband’s hand. “What? I may be tired but not enough to _not_ support our wife. If she believes we can do this, then who am I to not attempt the same?” 

“Don't strain yourself.” Tifa simply states, buttoning up the coat. A little bit of modesty is nice after all. Throwing an arm around each of their shoulders, the trio makes their way to the rest congregating around the shield, the feelings of trust and hope for the woman they love further emboldening the shield.

The Warrior of Light counties to fight back but any damages he managed to do was being undone by this relentless hope the chosen Warriors felt. The shield effortlessly mended itself and slowly, bit by bit, that light began to envelop his blade. 

“I’m sorry Elidibus, but despite all your expectations. . .”

The light grows stronger and stronger, reaching such a magnitude where the blade shatters as if it was nothing more than glass.

“We are unbreakable.” 

And with that said, Scarlett leaps through the shield. The very light of the shield envelops him, passing on every hope and prayer the people of the First held onto him, ultimately imbuing it in his very armor -- which takes on a bright red hue like the very flames in his soul. 

With his feet now lit aflame the Warrior of Fire begins to dance, pouring his entire soul into said dance to convey his feelings of mourning, regret and one last farewell to a person he once knew from a life so long ago -- the fire follows him as he jumps onto a nearby piece of debris, then to another and another, ultimately encircling the Primal. 

All at once the milky white in his eyes fade for a firey scarlet-red to take over, the small nuns on his head instantly grow and branch out to give him a magnificent pair of jackalope-esque horns and vibrant lotuses bloom in the air, one at each point he landed on.

He leaps back to his starting position and lifts his weapons in the air with grace and it was almost like a bomb went off within the next seconds -- the lotuses violently exploded, stabbing the Primal full force and litter the ground with their petals.

The Primal falls, usable to hold himself upright, truly and utterly defeated. 

The magic performed by the Star of Azem fades away, instantly tossing the many allies back to where they were before being summoned to the tower, what remains of the vibrant Hope Magic repairs the damage done to the tower in the mits of the battle and Scarlett collapses to his knees, a bit drained and thrown for a loop now that he has goddamn antlers growing out of his head. To his side, Khrystie’s clothes return to her Neo-Ishgardian apparel but she does not stow away her staff. She knows that although the enemy is defeated, she doesn’t doubt that there would be one last desperate attack. With that in mind she takes her stance before him and readies an attack. Torn, disfigured and truly and utterly desperate, the Primal rises with shaking legs and summons forth a new shield and sword. His teeth bared like a cornered animal and his eyes burning with determination. 

“Don't underestimate me. . .” He pants. “I. . . am immortal . . . I can still fight. . .!

However, with one step forward, his fate is sealed. An illuminated circle of magic surrounds his feet, binding him in place. A gasp of utter shock escapes him and all eyes turn to the entrance of the Seat of Sacrifice. There he stands, in his crystalline glory, G’raha Tia, looking a bit worse for wear -- perhaps a few more patches of gleaming crystals -- but still ready and able to fight. Khrystie beams with the utmost delight, her tail flickering with such happiness to see the man she loves still in one piece. 

“Elidibus. So foolishly fixated on my memories of the future, you failed to heed the lessons of the past.” G’raha holds his hand to the crystal embedded in his staff, already pouring magic into it in preparation for what’s to come. “Allow me to inform you. This very tower is hope from the past -- a gift to mankind as a whole!” He triumphantly lifts his staff up into the air, and that very motion is followed by a twinkling shimmer of light from the tower. The circle that surrounds the Warrior of Light grows brighter and stronger, strong enough that the force lifts the primal off its feet, leaving it floating in this radiant beam of light. The winds bellow and churn, their clothes flapping in the wind -- which if was any stronger would most certainly throw them off the tower.

“Created to serve as a reservoir for the limitless energy of the heavens! In other words. . . it's an oversized piece of white auracite!” A look of anger flashes over the face of he normally calm and well put together Exarch. “That power you gained in exploiting the best in my people and their heroes. I shall have it, your soul and all!” G’raha brings his staff down, power exploding from the base and rippling across the ground. The tower proceeds to light up with a blinding white light that rises from the base of the tower to the tip that extends into the heavens. The light at the very tip of the tower grows brighter and brighter, reaching out across the sky.

From their position on the battlefield, it was almost impossible to see. . . but G’raha continued to hold his ground, clutching his staff like a lifeline as he gave everything he had in his very bloodline to imprison this Ascian. However, Elidibus -- The Warrior of Light -- refused to simply give up. He fights against the impossible forces holding him back to lift his sword little by little and in doing so forces G’raha to fight even harder -- perhaps that was his idea all along. For all sides know this entire incident is pushing him to his limit as it tears the tower apart with the sheer abuse of magic it’s suffered today alone. There’s a very clear sound of shattering crystal among the blinding light and G’raha falters for a moment, being forced to his knees in utter agony. 

But, a hand reaches out and grabs ahold of his staff. He looks to his savior with shock and surprise. . .but perhaps he _shouldn’t_ be surprised. After all, his beloved had told him once before -- the very pattern of his soul has been carved into her being, so no matter what she will know him once she feels that pulse of life around her. Khrystie smiles down at him, her expression so utterly kind and loving, even as the winds whip her hair around her face. He can't stop the look of relief in his eyes nor the smile that crosses his face. Although no words were exchanged there was simply enough with expression alone -- an honest and pure trust and faith placed in him.

Reinvigorated and renewed, she places a hand on top of his own and together, with a triumphant battle cry, they lift the staff into the air. The crystal centered in the staff unleashes a light, making the demand for the tower’s very light to be siphoned into the crystal and once it reaches its peak, it proceeds to fire a large beam of raw aetheric energy that hits the target head on. There was absolutely no escape for Elibidus. He lets out a strangled scream of anguish as his entire essence is broken down to nothing but dust in the wind.

The light of the attack explodes across the horizon, fading away as stray particles of light twinkling as they fall from above and the skyline returns to the beloved dark, starry filled night line. A rather simple but beautiful confirmation that Elidibus was defeated . . . 

With the light cleared, Khrystie lowers the staff of her beloved and turns to greet him with a smile for her entire being to cease up. She donated a boon of her own to help G’raha endure the amount of magic he sacrificed to seal away such a powerful Primal but her boon was not enough to save him. From his toes, the tips of his fingers and nearly engulfing his shoulders was naught but glimmering blue crystal. Panic overwhelms her, her voice lost, but she’s down on her knees trying to do _something_ to help him. But what _can_ she do?

Before her eyes she watches the crystal continue to claim his body and the only thing she truly knows how to ‘cure’ is an overabundance of Light Aether. Despite the panic on her face, G’raha simply smiles and takes her hand once more. His eyes exude nothing but kindness and fondness for her and he presses a gentle kiss to her hand. Oh how it breaks her heart to see him like this and yet so loving to her. 

Why can’t he just care for himself? Just for once?

“Holy shit. . .” Scarlett breathes, their voice trembling with shock. . . and almost awe? The couple turned away from each other to where Elidibus once stood to find. . . Find something absolutely unexpected.

Yes, an ancient Amaurot was expected, should its lingering feelings and final thoughts choose to speak to them, but this. . . robed in white with a familiar red mask, crouched down with hands on their knees was the tiniest Amaurot they’ve ever seen.

Which, quite frankly, was something of an achievement. Urianger was the tallest of the Scions but his height was still considered to be one of a child by the standards of the Amaurot . . . but this one. . . he was so. . . so small and fragile. 

“A child. . .” Scarlett speaks out loud. There’s an unfocused look in his eyes as he repeats that once more, which causes it to finally sink in for Khrystie. Life times ago. . . he was a child when he took up the seat of Elidibus and a child when he became the heart of Zodiark. It also explained his childlike reactions when their plans were ruthlessly torn apart at the seams and realizing he was left behind as the final of the unsundered. . . and his role in playing the hero in creating the Warrior of Light. . . something about that was all very childlike and whimsical in her opinion. Truthfully, the very thought of it makes her sick, but at the same time she cannot necessarily blame the Amaurots for this result.

From what Scarlett has explained, the seat of Elidibus was one of a rather coveted and important role, and it seems to spell out that the Convocation had nothing but faith in him to help bring forth a God of great power in their hour of need. . . And what they did, most people would do the same to save everyone and everything they loved and lost. In the end, it's so. . . so utterly tragic. . . because he forgot who he was doing everything for in the end. . . He could remember a promise to steer the star and mankind back to their true forms but he couldn't even remember _who_ he made that promise to. . . but he recklessly chased after it until he met his demise. 

Elidibus doesn't lift his head to look at a single one of them, even as Scarlett's bare feet enter their limited field of vision. Carefully, with the utmost caution, Scarlett kneels down and withdraws the Stars he collected not long ago. He places them down, one by one, side by side, before the Ancient.. . . Azem’s is the only one not apart of the group simply because he selfishly wants to keep his Star but by the looks of it, Elidibus isn’t even looking for it because . . . the sun is before him. Isn't it?

“These are. . .” Elidibus speaks softly -- his voice still very much sounding like an adult for all the years he’s lived -- as he collects a few of the glimmering stones in his small hands. “That’s right. . . I believed. . . If I became Zodiark, I would be able to save everyone. This I truly believed. And yet, even after I became him, they still cried out in rage and despair.” Scarlett listens intently, listening to the way his voice cracks and how he bites back tears. It. . .It truly and painfully twists his heart.

His decision was made with pure intentions despite all appearances, despite the manipulation and utter chaos it brought forth to those on the Source and Shards alike. . . This they know from the depths of their very soul.

Finally, Elidibus lifts his head, looking right into his eyes with what they can _feel_ is sadness and despair. “Many opinions came forth in regard to the fate of the Star. A rare occurrence that the Convocation was distressed. Even so. . . I was needed. I withdrew myself from Zodiark. For them. . . My people. My brothers. . . .My friends.” He gazes upon the crystals, tears in his eyes as those memories he lost long ago strike him at full force. He holds two tightly in his hands and keeps them close to his chest, wishing they were here with him now. Elidibus’s body begins to glow as his voice begins to crack as all his regrets and remorse about his failure to help those he loved and cared for truly begin to eat away at him. He told himself for so long that he must stay strong and keep faith. That once it was all over, he would meet them all again. It was a desperate hope he clung onto for all those years, even as he grew older and forgot _who_ he made such a promise for. 

“The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day.” His voice is but a whisper as his physical form begins to give away. He would not last much longer like this. “But you are not here to see it.” And Elidibius looks right into Scarlett’s eyes as he utters such words with such deep sorrow and tears and it breaks his heart. He can’t remember a damn thing. . . but these feelings, the way these words touch his heart. . . He cannot stop himself from bringing Elidibus into his arms and holding him tight. A familiar and yet so distant feeling. . .but, for right now, it feels just right. A feeling that seems to be completely mutual for Elidibus for he wraps his small arms around the Viera and holds on as tight as he possibly can before he fades away all together in a glimmer of light, taking the Stars with him to sleep within the Crystal Tower forever more.

Something rolls across the floor, gently bumping against his feet. It takes Scarlett a moment to recall that this item is the vessel crafted for G’raha Tia himself.

“Oh Gods. . .” He breaths. He swiftly reels around to be greeted with the very unfortunate sight of the Exarch fully collapsed on the ground, his beloved panicking over his current state as she pulls him into her lap and holds onto his hand.

In the moments of the farewell to a companion from a past life, the crystallization has inevitably grown worse as it crawled up along his backside nearly taking him whole and yet, he looks up to his beloved with a smile on his face to simply say “I concede, I may have overexerted myself.” with a slight wince.

“You _may have_?!” She incredulously demands. Her annoyed expression melts away as she desperately clings to him once more, her mind struggling to come together for some coherent plan to save him from a horrible fate of crystallization. . . and yet he smiles, gentle and kind. He gives her a pat on her back and pulls away to gaze into her starry eyes, determination so raw and true. 

“Come now, love. I told you before I had a plan, and that when all was said and done, I would ask a favor of you.” His voice is soft, gentle but firm. The crystal continues its climb, consuming more and more of his body but there is no urgency in his voice. However, it’s nothing more than a kind cruelty to keep his beloved calm rather than scaring her by expressing fear. “We have averted the Eighth Umbral Calamity. Found a way for everyone to return to the Source, and. . . last but not least, we have secured the future of all the people of Norvrandt. We have won, my friend.”

She wants to question ‘but at what cost’ because she’s always loathed solutions that resulted in the death of someone she loves. How can he be content with this. . .? But, really, she’s no better. She’d sacrifice her own life and safety -- even if she is immortal -- just to save those she cherishes. She truly has no right to be so upset. . .

The wind gently blows and there’s a serene content smile on his face as he gazes off into the distance. Perhaps to admire the beauty of the land he's helped protect one last time or maybe to distract himself. . . whatever it is, she lets him have this moment. Gently, he rests his head on her shoulder, intertwining their fingers together. She holds on tight in return, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Ever so softly, he purrs, his nearly crystalized tail peeking out from under his robes to brush against her leg.

“Darling, I hope you'll forgive me for this moment of selfishness. And. . .while I wouldn't want you to feel obliged. . .” He looks up into her glossy eyes, his voice so soft and timid, his eyes so hopeful, as he begs to go on an adventure with her. Just the two of them. Together. Part of her wants to laugh. An adventure? Really? She gives him her heart and soul and he’s so timid to ask for something like that?

“You could have asked me that any day. I would happily go anywhere with you Raha.” She whispers before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He makes a soft adorable little sound as he melts in her arms, gently bumping his head against her chin. She smiles in return, holding his face in her hands and gently bumps foreheads against his own. Once more, he purrs with such joy and happiness, simply content with the affection he’s receiving and if it wasn't for the dire situation, he most certainly would have asked for more. 

“If I were to tell you that this isn't the end -- that we will meet again -- would you believe me?” He poses in a soft little voice.

He sealed himself in that tower before with a similar promise and. . . she truly does believe in him, even if she’s sad to see him like this now. . . If he swears on this. . . who is she to not believe in him?

“You must come back soon Raha. I don't want to wait ten years to see your face again.” He chuckles lightly, his eyes glimmering with fondness for the warrior he’s loved and adored for so many years. Scarlett carefully kneels down, offering the vessel to the Exarch as it seems the conversation is coming to a close. G’raha gives him a grateful smile, thanking him and for a moment he reaches out to take the vessel but stops himself after staring at his crystallized hand.

He knew, better than anyone else, that the moment was approaching. So he pulls his hood up, treating it with care as he does so, gathers his fallen staff and, a bit reluctantly, rises from his beloved’s lap.

“My beloved. My friend. With you two, my mind and memories shall travel to the ends of the world and beyond.” Finally back on his feet, he takes careful steps away from them both, approaching Xande’s throne with a look of determination and his staff tightly clenched in his grasp. 

“But in this place shall my body stand immovable.” G’raha firmly places his staff on the ground and, with his head held tall, he turns around to face them both with a look of kindness and sincerity twinkling in his eyes. “May it serve as an undying promise, not only to those who looked to me for leadership, but to any soul who has known despair, that hope is everlasting.”

Standing before him, to give him one last farewell, Scarlett places the vessel in Khrystie’s shaking hands. She bites her bottom lip as she extends the crystalline object to her beloved. Despite the heartbreak they both feel in that moment, G’raha gives her a smile -- a smile of love to be etched into crystal for eternity -- and she manages one in return as she whispers a soft ‘I love you’. G’raha smiles in return, beaming with absolute delight.

“And I too. . . tomorrow and tomorrow, my love.”

The vessel glows a soft white hue as it absorbs the essence of G’raha Tia in order to protect both soul and memories for a journey across the vast ocean of time and space. With that final act, the preparations are complete and the crystal begins consuming him with such speed one would think it was simply waiting until it received an all clear signal.

If he felt fear in those final moments, not a soul would have known. In his final moments he made sure to lock his eyes with his beloved and bid her one last farewell with a loving smile upon his soft freckled face. She does everything she can to return that smile, clutching the vessel to her chest, as her heart shatters to a thousand pieces -- a sound that is mirrored by the grim finalization of G’raha’s crystallization. 

And so, as the sun began to rise for a new day -- atop the Crystal Tower -- the Crystal Exarch entered an eternal rest and his beloved fell to her knees, sobbing with utter anguish. The vessel cliched to her chest, her free hand uselessly glides down the smooth crystal, unable to find purchase as she begs for this to not be real.

But it is.

He isn’t dead. 

She knows that. . . 

She holds his heart and soul in her hands after all but that didn't make this any less painful for her but how can she not be heartbroken after watching him basically _die_ before her eyes with a smile on his face? Even then. . . there was no guarantee that any of this would work at all. There’s a possibility for this to fail and she’ll lose him for good this time. 

Did he really think that smiling would lessen the blow for her?

For their _children_?

He’s so stupid and selfish to want her to smile. . . but all of this was inevitable, wasn't it? Even without Elidibus’s interference, continuing to feed off the tower was going to kill him one day, wasn’t it? Living as one with the tower was more than inconvenience, wasn’t it? It doomed him to live a life where everyone he loved died before him. It robbed aspects of his humanity away and despite the fact it gave him the ability to wait and see her again, he’s been suffering for so long and afraid of an uncertain future, wasn’t he?

But Raha, why? Why did it have to end this way . . . ? Why couldn’t she do more for him. . . ?

Scarlett kneels down at her side, trying his best to comfort her but words can’t seem to reach her in her moment of utter agony. All she seems capable of doing in that moment is to sob and wail, letting the world know of her heartbreak. He’s at least thankful when the Scions finally arrive -- Mel, Sho, Shinjiro and Tifa in tow since they were ejected back to Lakeland once the battle against the Primal ended -- and Thancred bolts across the area to her side. He gathers her in his arms, gently assuring her everything will be okay now and in turn, she clings to him like a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder between apologies for looking like this. He strokes her hair, assuring her everything is okay and she's allowed to cry in her moments of suffering. 

Scarlett quietly steps aside and rejoins his beloved partner, taking the hand offered to him in support and solidarity. That alone told him that Mel foresaw this moment but he wasn’t sure what he could say to comfort his friend and charge. Scarlett gives him a soft smile, gently patting his hand.

“. . . I believe everything will turn out okay. . . even if it hurts right now. We’ll be okay.” Mel smiles softly and brings his partner in for a hug. Scarlett happily returns the gesture, reminding him once more they’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also yeah excessive french on dante because he IS french [makes sense in context], so yeehaw


	2. Chapter 2

Home is. . . a bit chaotic. 

Despite the steps she's taken in preparation for her eventual departure, she is inevitably met with resistance. The residents, young and old, seem to be quite upset that the woman they’ve called mother for nearly ten years will be departing -- even if it’s for the place she calls home.

Xalih-Reen, at the very least, takes it better than anyone else but that’s solely because she named him her heir years ago. But really, how could she not name him her heir? He was the first child she took under her wing and how she learned the horrors of the First.

When she first arrived ten years ago, she ran into several Lightwardens on her way to the Crystal Tower but at that moment she saw nothing more than monsters on her way to G’raha and naught else. It was only once she was thrown out of the city by Lyan did she encounter the boy fleeing from the Sullen with a bundle in his arms did things change.

Said bundle would turn out to be his remaining family, a younger sibling. At the moment she couldn’t exactly tell what was wrong with the child, simply that something was _wrong_. She quickly grew furious as every medical professional she brought the child to told her it was pointless to save the child -- for it was going to turn and kill. It was only a matter of time.

For the sake of the two siblings, she poured all her time and efforts into researching how to extract the excessive Aether and she was fortunate to make some sort of breakthrough to save the child’s life. However, her efforts did not repair everything that the turning caused, and in turn people would lash out against the children in fear so she whisked them away to lands they would not be disturbed -- Il Mehg.

The fae were all too curious about her from the moment she entered their territory and she was willing to indulge them in exchange for a safe haven and like that, Home was created. The fae would keep any dangers away from the entrance and guide any infected with light to her and in exchange she would entertain them, and with Mel’s help, she would introduce them to her children -- which would later result in Emil taking a permanent residence in Home.

Tragically, Xalih’s younger sibling did not last long despite her efforts -- Mel, although not an actual doctor, was able to make an assessment that the excessive aether damaged her organs long ago and it was a miracle that she lived as long as she did -- but the young Mystel didn't fault her although, instead he thanked her for letting her live a little longer and allowing him to bid a proper farewell.

Still, she felt guilty for not being able to avoid the poor child’s organ failure and worked harder than before to improve her spellcrafting. Xalih assisted her whenever he could, talking to the fae in order to get books from the Bookman's Shelf or simply trying to keep peace among the growing community. One way or another, he’s grown into quite the young man with a skill in leadership, and as years passed she knew that one day she would have to go. He was very resistant to the idea, in fact he almost looked betrayed by the notion.

It was that moment she realized her role as ‘Mother’ in Home made her take the place of a mother figure in the hearts of many villagers. It was a bit complex to explain everything to him but she gave him enough to understand her future plans to depart were not done because she grew tired of him or any of the villagers but because she has a responsibility for something much bigger -- and, despite the distance she would love each and every one of them always. 

She’s watched him from the tender age of nine to nineteen and he’s grown so much over the years. She is truly proud of him and the man he’s become.

“Take care of your family Xalih.” Khrystie smiles, removing the lace cape from her shoulder. The young man blinks in surprise as the cloth is gently draped over his shoulders. “As Father, this is your responsibility now. . . however, I have spoken with the King and they’ll let the merchants from Lakeland and Crystarium visit to restock on supplies, as long as their intentions are pure.”

Needless to say, they both know what happens when those who have ill intentions try to visit Home -- they’re immediately whisked away and they have to explain that hot mess to their family or supervisors. Nevertheless, Khrystie clips the claps of the robe close and lifts the hood to cover his head as she continues to explain to the young man that the same spending budget of a hundred thousand Gil is in place -- stored in the same place no less -- and he’ll need to plan accordingly as the new leader. 

She even mentions should someone new appear and effected by a Light Aether disturbance, he could contact Beq Lugg. Then goes off to remind him to contact his pseudo-sister, Ryne, and aunt Lyna. And _then_ reminds him to visit the other community leaders to help maintain their relationships and help organize events to bring them all together. By this time Xalih’s face has fallen and he lets out a deep sigh as he brings a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

“Mother,” he interrupts, thankfully bringing Khrystie to a stop. She quizzically tilts her head with a soft hum. “You have given instructions many times before. You have even gone to the extent to leave me detailed documentation -- which, may I remind you, contains a very detailed list of the fae and their personal preferences in order to compensate them for helping in our gardens -- I have watched you for ten years, I am more than aware of the steps to take to bring prosperity to Home.” With a proud smile, and twinkling eyes, he places a hand to his chest. “You have given us so much, and for that, we are truly grateful despite what our protests may appear like. We simply do not wish to lose someone we love dearly”

Ah. She’s doing it again, isn’t she? She loves her children and she frets far too much for them. It is not that she doubts them. She simply worries far too much for her own good.

“Yes, I feel the same.” She smiles. “I do not know how often I will visit but that doesnt mean I won’t try. So, do your very best.” Xalih laughs a bit but smiles no less. He bows to the woman he’s viewed as a mother for ten strange, wonderful and enchanting years and they would have parted ways if not for a tapping at the door.

“Hey mama!” Emil calls, bursting into the study with a grin on his face, his brown eyes glittering with glee. Although, the moment he spots Xalih he jumps a little before looking to his feet sheepishly. “Oh. . .I didn't know you were having a meeting. . .”

“It’s fine sweetheart, we just finished up. What’s got you so excited?” Khrystie smiles, not so elegantly squatting down to her son’s height. Emil lights up once more, happily running to his mother’s side and tugs at the long sleeve of her top.

“Seto came for a visit! He wants to talk to you!” 

Huh.

Well. 

That is quite a surprise. 

She couldn't think of a single reason _why_ he would want to see her. . . much less leave Wolekdorf. Regardless, she best not keep the old Amero waiting. She thanks her boy for informing her of this, lifting him into her arms and together, they leave the small little cottage that serves as the leader’s residence and make way to the center of the small village where the residence ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at the sigh of the large flying creature. Given the state of the world, leaving Home was not the safest idea up until Scarlett defeated all the Lightwardens and brought night to the First. No one has left Il Mehg just yet but the King has made it expressly clear that if anything happened to a resident of Home there would be hell to pay. . . so the sight of an Amero is quite a treat for them.

“Seto, good evening.” Khrystie smiles. He immediately perks up at her arrival, his wings flapping with excitement and the young adults and children immediately back off. Seto steps forward, gently leaning down to offer her whatever was in his mouth. It takes several seconds for her to even realize what the item is -- a Crystal of Light, faded in color and a bit damaged. And yet, despite the journey it’s embarked on she can see the flicker of flames burning in its core.

A single name comes forth;

“Ardbert. . .”

“That it is indeed.” The amero nods. “I finally had my chance to say farewell and I’ve decided to spread my wings and explore once more. However, I can’t bring myself to leave this crystal home alone and I don't have any way to take it with me. But then, I recalled you mentioning you prepared graves in honor of Ardbert and his friends in the past. I do not know if there were bodies but. . . it felt only right to rest his spirit among his friends before I departed.”

“That’s kind of you.” Khrystie smiles, gently cradling the crystal in her hand with a kind expression on her face. “Given the circumstances, none of them had a body to lay to rest. Just their weapons and crystals. . . Luckily, we were able to recover Bravura after our battle atop the Crystal Tower. . . this crystal shall be welcomed with the rest. Please, come with me.”

. . .

Behind the leader’s house is a small personal garden and within a small alcove is a single haka -- Japanese grave -- carefully carved from stone with the kanji ‘Warriors of Light’ carved into the stone. Positioned directly behind the haka are four sotōbas, each with a familiar name -- Lamitt, Nyelbert, Renda-Rae and Branden -- and neatly arranged before the haka are the Warriors chosen weapons that followed them through death.

Khrystie kneels down before the haka, opening the crypt with ease, and extracts the single urn sealed within. She whispers a soft apology for doing so before opening the urn to reveal the four waiting crystals of earth, wind, ice and lightning waiting within. 

Mother holds the urn out to her son, who eagerly places it in the center, citing ‘he’s the heart of the party!’ as his reason behind these actions. She swears for a moment the kindled flame within the crystal burns a little brighter, Ardbert’s heart warmed to be in the arms of his closest friends and comrades.

Still, she affectionately ruffles her son’s white hair and remarking he’s absolutely sweet to do that. Once the urn is sealed she allows the boy to place it within the crypt and she seals it tight once more. Once she steps back Xalih steps forward to neatly place the ax among the other weapons and firmly plans the sotōba with Ardbert’s name behind the haka. With his role complete, he takes a step back and lets Seto step forward, who leaves his offering of wildflowers native to Il Mehg.

Together they leave a prayer for the fallen heroes that did everything they could, in body and soul, to save the world they loved dearly.

* * *

The moment Emil sees his father, he rather happily scrambles over to him and wraps his tiny limbs around his leg, his brown eyes sparkling with delight. Thancred looks down at his son with a bit of an awkward expression, clearly at a loss as to what the child wanted from him, but his wife proceeds to remedy this by extracting the child from his leg and simply placing him on his shoulders. Emil grins with pride, happily placing his tiny hands in his father’s hair and kicks his little legs about.

“I wanna carry papa’s crystal!” Emil all too happily declares, throwing his tiny arms into the air. Thancred shouldn't be surprised that his son was actually aware of the plan. . . but he is.

“Now, I don't know about that, Emil. . .” He begins with an awkward laugh but the boy isn't hearing any of it. He pouts and puffs out his cheeks in protest.

“But I can be super careful with it!” The child argues. “And mommy can catch it if I drop it!” That’s. . . very much not a thought he wants to think upon. Y’shtola exhails a quiet snort.

“Thou need not to worry,” Urianger speaks up. “The spirit vessels hasth been prepared to endure under various forms of trauma. Should young Emil drop one, it shall remain unharmed.”

“The worst that could happen is the feeling of being shaken violently.” Mel laughs.

“Is that an estimate or a prediction?” Thancred questions.

Mel refuses to answer.

Urianger instead turns Scarlett, informing him once he’s ready to go, they should make way to the Ocular as by now Beq Lugg must have finished the final inspections. If that was the situation, there was not much more for them to do now since they’ve all made their farewells to their closest friends and allies of the First. Scarlett hums, mentally double checking everything when Ryne and Gaia approaches them, the former with a serious yet nervous look on her face while the latter huffs, somewhat annoyed to be here. Or perhaps trying to hide how upset she is to lose those she’s only recently made a bond with.

“Um. . .everyone?” Ryne calls, her tone clearly nervous but everyone looks at her with kindness that she feels a bit flustered to be nervous in the first place. With a hand to her chest, she bows her head. “I want to thank you all. On behalf of the First. You, and Minfilia, and the Exarch. Without each and every one of you guiding us, fighting for us...we wouldn't be standing here now. There wouldn't even _be_ a here. And no words can express our gratitude.”

For a moment she closes her eyes, trying to string together words to explain the depth of her gratitude but that seems a bit too complicated so she smiles instead, serenely and happily.

“We still have a lot to do, countless trials to overcome -- but if it ever seems too much, I'll think of our time together.” She intertwines her fingers and gazes up to the sky. Although the sun is shining down upon them, with everything that's happened, the light no longer seems frightening. In fact, it’s as much of a comfort as the starry night sky. “The happy moments . . . and the sad -- I will remember it all. And it will give me the strength to carry on without you.” Slowly, she lowers her gaze to her family and friends, tears bubbling up.

“Because you made me who I am. Minfilia. Ryne.” Despite how she's near in tears, there’s a certain firmness to her voice -- something that expressed that while she was beyond happy to be her own person, it is thanks to all of them she’s also found the ability be proud of her place in a line of reincarnations of such a kind woman that sacrificed all she had to save a world she knew so little about.

“To honor these names and these memories, I will stand with all the people of this land, and strive for a better tomorrow.” One by one, they each look to Ryne with a new level of fondness, love and respect. And really, how could they not? This showcase of sheer determination and hope to build a better tomorrow was truly something to marvel over. It put their hearts at ease for they knew, with utmost certainty, she would be able to stand on her own feet once they departed.

“Thancred.” Urianger not so subtly whispers. “I believe the honor of responding should rightfully be thine.” Thancred snorts to himself. Of course Urianger has to make a scene out of it. But, he’s right. This is his place to speak up. 

He’s raised this girl for five long years after all. While he was absolutely horrific with it due to failing to understand the needs of a child -- which he, unfortunately, based around his own needs as a child, which were the absolute minimum -- and the heavy feeling of being haunted by his failures once again he can clearly see that the child before him now is not the same girl he rescued from Eulmore. She’s no longer small or timid, but strong -- stronger than he ever could be -- firm with her beliefs and drive to help others.

She may not _be_ Minfilia, but she is in spirit. Her kindness and desire to help others burns so strong. She truly is a wonderful girl. He knows he’s hardly perfect and not the best person to be a parent but the things he would do to call her his own -- to the ends of the universe he would most certainly go. 

With a smile, he gently pats the top of her head and gently ruffles her orange hair. Immediately tears spring forth in her eyes and they can’t seem to stop as he speaks with such a kind voice, informing her he has nothing but the utmost faith in her to help the people of the First. 

After all, he’s proud of her and he always will be.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world and more.” He finalizes with a confident nod of his head.

“She’s got the world in the palm of her hand.” Gaia waves off with a huff, her hands on her hips. “She’s a little too good at that.” Thancred agrees to that with zero hesitation, however, this happens to be the exact moment Emil decides to let go of his father and tumble into Ryne’s arms. She lets out a yelp of surprise, fumbling to catch the laughing bundle of joy. Thancred grabs his chest, damn near suffering a heart attack thinking something could have happened to his son. The child, on the other hand, is simply grinning, completely oblivious to his effect on the others at the moment. His tiny limbs clutching Ryne’s torso to give her the biggest hug his tiny being could muster.

“I think you’re cool onee-chan!” He beams as Ryne hastily adjusts him in her arms to make sure she was carrying him right. He peeks over her shoulder to give Gaia a very -- almost comically -- serious look. “But your girlfriend better be nice to you!! Or I’ll fight her!” Gaia’s face explodes in a red hue. Ryne squeaks with surprise. Thancred wheezes rather loudly. Khrystie breaks into a loud, ugly laugh, slapping at her knee -- because _of course_ her son would boldly proclaim that.

“W-We aren't. . .! It’s not like--!” Ryne desperately fumbles.

“If she makes you cry, you need to tell me and I’ll make mommy bring me back so I can fight her!” He insists.

“You’re imagining things. We just talk and go shopping on occasion. Nothing more.” Gaia huffs but her attempts to dissuade the child falling flat on its face. Emil lifts his arms in the air, waving them about as he argues.

“Nuh-uh!” Emil huffs. “You were holding hands! And sharing snacks!” The boy rattles off more things he’s witnessed the two girls do together -- most of which could be passed off as friendship things -- but he’s rather certain that they're dating, which makes Khrystie think perhaps he saw them kiss at some point but he's not sure how to articulate that because he finds all forms of kissing to be 'super gross'. Regardless, Khrystie decides this is enough and easily takes her son from the arms of her adopted daughter.

“Now, now Emil,” she coos. “If Ryne is dating Gaia, I’m sure they’re both very happy. If they’re not, they’ve very happy with each other’s companionship. In the end, as long as they’re happy, it’s okay.” Emil pouts a bit. Relationships are still a bit weird to him after all and Gaia wasn’t exactly . . . the nicest person when they first met but their mother is right! If his sister is happy, then everything will be okay!

“Then, I’ll learn how to write! And I’ll send you a lot of letters and gifts!” Emil insists. Ryne smiles softly, informing him she would enjoy that.

“Might we also say a few words?” Lyna’s voice inquires. Pulled from their little world, the Scions look around themselves to realize they are most certainly not alone despite the busy afternoon hours of the Crystarium. From every section of the city-state, the citizens of this beautiful city had come to see them all off.

“Why, this is...just about all of you!” Alphinaud gasps, utterly flabbergasted by this surprise. Lyna smiles, her eyes carrying pain and pride.

“To see you off seemed the least we could do.” She takes a step forward and proudly salutes to express the depths of her gratitude. “You risked your all for us -- fought for a realm not your own. Before you came, we had never known the beauty of the night sky.” She looks a bit tearful as she adds ‘the joy of your company’. And that was a sentiment they could all share. For in the end, it has not been a long time for every single one of them, but these moments most certainly touched their hearts and allowed for these eternal bonds to be forged. 

“Though it saddens us deeply to bid you farewell, it has ever been our way to send off friends with a smile. Wherever your road should lead, we shall pray for your safety. And following your brave example, we shall continue to fight for the Crystarium.” Alisaie chuckles, placing a hand upon her hip.

“With or without us, you've always taken good care of this city. I don't doubt for a moment you'll continue to do so.” Alphinaud nods is head in agreement

“Aye, a more resilient people we have never known.” He turns away from the crowd to gaze upon the Crystal Tower -- to the person standing at the top, remaining vigilant. The people of the Crystarium follow his lead, gazing upon the tower and protector in wonder, heartbreak, but also. . . hope. The Exarch may be gone, but his impact upon them will never be lost and he will live on in their hearts.

All they can do now is leave the Scions with a prayer and a request to their lord -- as they’ve come to learn what shall be attempted -- let him know that he doesn't need to worry about them any longer and it’s time he lives his life to the fullest as he wants. And should he think back upon them and smile, they shall be smiling alongside him. And, of course, please look after him for their sake.

Lyna begs this of Khrystie, the woman her grandfather figure loves so dearly, with tears in her eyes. The Keeper tears up as well but nods her head, promising to pass this message to her lover. Lyna softly thanks her, wipes her tears away and salutes once more, doing all she could to bid farewell with a smile. Katliss, however, quickly steps up to offer a wrapped box to the young woman, telling her to open it once they arrive home and to think of it as one final gift from people that love them all. She’s a bit surprised by this but agrees no less, she nods her head and thanks the citizens of the Crystarium one more time.  
  


* * *

The moment the group arrives back on the Source via the portal in the Ocular, they immediately rush over to the nearby table where a Son and Ironworks employee spoke. The two young adults nearly shriek in terror with the sudden arrival but, on request, call for several boats over the radio to transport all of them from Syrcus Trench back to the mainland. The trip back to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona feels as if it takes only moments after an eternity long boat ride and their sudden arrival through the doors takes just about everyone by surprise. All eyes are upon them, panting and out of breath, and no actions are taken until little five year old Emil lifts the spirit vessel containing his father’s essence.

“I got papa!!” He proudly exclaims

“We. . . We got all of them.” Scarlett adds, showing the two vessels he’s been holding onto while Shinjiro and Tifa reveal the one each of them have been carrying. Krile’s eyes grow wide, her mouth slightly agape as she rushes to their side.

“You -- you have them?” She sputters, still shocked that a solution was actually here. Really, at a no better time too since things have been getting progressively worse. The healer and the trusted advisor of the Scions lead the way to Dawn’s Respite, the warriors on their heels and once they’re within the medical wing they all spread out to find the bed with the appropriate person sleeping within it and gently place the crystals beside their heads, on their respective pillow.

Emil even gives his father’s crystal a gentle little pat, telling him it’s time to wake up. . . but really, all they can do is wait. They don't know how long it will take for any of this to take, as nerve wracking as this all is. There is naught but silence for several moments and then the crystals begin to glow, a red hue from the bottom and then a white. . . a shimmer and sparkle and then a radiant pulse of light from the first body and -- to their relief -- others follow one by one. The light is blinding for a moment but as the job nears completion, the stone and crystalized blood take on dark hues as the vessels lose their luster. The first body to move is Alisaie’s. Weakened and utterly exhausted, she brings her arm to her face, wondering out loud if it worked. 

Emil, with zero hesitation, jumps from his mother’s arms and onto his father’s bed, happily pressing his face to his chest as he gives him a big hug. Khrystie smiles at the sight, taking a seat at the edge of Thancred’s bed to give him a gentle kiss on his lips.

“MOM. THAT'S GROSS.” Emil whines in protest. Thancred chuckles, his eyes full of affection as he reaches out to stroke her cheek.

“We’re home, lily.” He smiles. She blinks with surprise, noting how both his eyes have taken a grey hue now. Well, the trip was probably the roughest on him and his soul given his issues with Aether. She decides to bring that up at later times and proceeds to cuddle up to him, happily purring. Looking around the room as the others begin to sit up Tataru tears up with joy to finally have her companions safely back home. With a light laugh Y’shtola comments that her body feels like a sack of popotoes, but that's to be expected when one remains in a coma for several months.

“That said, I doubt any of us will be fit to travel for a while. May we leave the rest to you?” She looks directly at Khrystie as she says this. Unfortunately, the implications fly right over her head. Which is a tragedy in its own right.

To be honest, it’s not until Urianger outright reminds her that she holds the key to not only G’raha Tia’s return, but to open the doors of the Crystal Tower, in her hands does the message sink in. Absentmindedly, she looks down to the last untouched vessel in her grasp and it all comes together. The proof that this can work is before her eyes and by god, she’ll do it. Immediately, she jumps from Thancred’s bed, kisses him on the cheek and bolts out the medical wing before Alphinaud can finish his request for Tatataru to prepare one extra cup of tea, much to her confusion.

. . .

It’s probably a special kind of hell to witness the famed Warrior of Hope rushing out the bar, donning black robes and a staff in hand, instead of a suit of dragoon armor and spear. Or perhaps it would have if history could recall her role and existence here -- as far as the residents of Mor Dhona know, she’s a rather deranged looking woman with zero intentions to stopping and like hell if they’ll become a speed bump in her quest.

People hastily move out of her way with her booming command to move, she throws out a few apologies but she doesn't slow down for a moment. She even stumbles past Arya, who greets her with a smile, but all she can get out is a ‘SORRY GOTTA GO.’ before grabbing her black feathered Chocobo by he reigns and hopping onto his saddle. The bird very quickly catches onto her excited and eager feelings and takes off with a bit of a spring in his step, all too pleased to be reunited with her and to deliver her to wherever she desires.

She leads him down a familiar path, her heart and soul thrumming with excitement, her mind chanting the name of the young man she loves so dearly. She passes Saint Coinach’s Find, she’s rather certain she caught a glimpse of Rammbroes speaking to Y’shtola’s sister, but she continues down the path to the Crystal Gate. 

As it had many years ago, the gate smoothly opens -- if not a bit slowly -- and she charges forward. Although she can feel the sting of running and riding across rough terrain, she hops off the back of the Chocobo and begins a descent down the stone steps into the Labyrinth of the Ancient. She makes her way to the center platform to ascend and down the long winding path to the gates of the tower.

Years ago, he announced his feelings to her, gazing upon her with kindness, love and hope as her pale blue ribbon fluttered in his hair and then these very gates of gold blocked her from the man she loved -- the man she intended to confess to the following day.

She has always been with him. . . but today, _she’ll_ throw wide the gates and she will be by his side, supporting and cheering for him.

Khrystie lifts the vessel into the air and the reaction is instenious. The figures of Unei and Doga glow an illuminated blue, a light covering the full height of the door from the bottom to the top and with a loud click the Allagan mechanization unfurl, presenting her with the path into the tower.

The crystal clutched her chest, she passed the foyer and the doors closed once more, leaving both her and G’raha sealed within.

* * *

It won’t for long.

As soon as she finds him, they’ll head home. 

Together.

* * *

She makes her way to the map of the tower situated before the twin staircase. Her fingers run over the shapes that symbolize each level of the tower with urgency. However, only the bottom level was lit up, indicating where she was located. She furrows her brows, somewhat annoyed it was not giving her then answers she was looking for.

It _is_ rather unfortunate that he completely neglected to give any indication to where his body rested but, given the moment, that was probably something that _would_ slip someone’s mind. . . Then again. . .what if he forgot? A couple hundred years _is_ a long time.

“I’m not the only one in the tower.” She frowns, shaking her head. “Where is Raha?” The crystal immediately heeds her call, glowing once more and in response a new section of the map lights up -- the Seat of Sacrifice.

Immediately, she can imagine him snugly sitting on Xande's throne, looking so proud of himself. But gods, he would be so utterly tiny in it. The very thought was truly adorable and made her heart flutter with glee.

“That’s so like you. . .” She laughs. Khrystie turns her attention to the Allagan Teleporter, ready to alter the settings to make sure she ends up on the right floor, but given G’raha was the last to use it the same settings are intact, giving her a direct ride to the Seat of Sacrifice.

The crystals shimmer oh so beautifully in the light of the morning sunlight and G’raha looks absolutely radiant in the light. As she predicted, he’s absolutely tiny on the throne, but he truly looks precious all curled up comfortably, breathing easily like he was napping in the sun. 

His soul vessel clutched in her hand, her staff slips from the other and she runs to his side, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears and absolute joy on her face. She nearly trips once or twice but it matters not. She climbs upon the throne, carefully situating herself so she could place his head in her lap. 

Placing the crystal down she’s unable to stop herself from gently kissing his temple and running her fingers through his hair. . . hair that’s grown quite a bit over two years. Still, it’s quite healthy. So silky and soft. . . . Really, it's a bit surprising to see how healthy he is despite being in rather direct contact with the sun. Maybe there’s a dome, not visible to her eye, above the tower.

At least the excessive light has kept his freckles nice and healthy. . . and perhaps gifted him with more. She gives yet another kiss to his sun kissed skin before she pulls the ribbon from his hair, letting it all unfurl and spill over the crystalline throne. Humming softly to herself, she begins to gather his long hair in order to braid it. At least this way, she wouldn't have to worry about his hair snagging on anything on the way back -- she has some doubts that he’ll be able to teleport as soon as he wakes up -- besides, it helped soothe her nerves.

While she truly does believe everything will work out; the fact of the matter is this isn't entirely the same situation as the Scions -- the Scions returned to their own bodies, which were essentially soulless husks waiting for them. This body has someone very much living within it and the two souls -- although same -- will need to come to an understanding before waking up. . . .

In the worse case scenario, one could dominate the other and one would be lost as a result. However, should that come to pass, she will not hold it against whoever is victorious. It's a scary situation to be placed in after all. . . and she’s loved Raha for two years and she fell for the man that’s lived for hundreds. . .both of them are precious to her and each their own person with faults and whatnot. 

Inevitably, the fear of losing either one of them scares her but, whoever awakens, she will gladly greet with open arms.

So, she distracts herself instead, showering him with affection and carefully braiding his long hair with a gentle hum. . . until she realizes the _absolute bastard’s tail is flexing and curling._

_He’s awake._

_He’s goddamn awake._

“Raha, I swear to God.” A smirk tugs at his lips, one Allagan red eye cracked open.

“Swearing to yourself seems a bit egotistical, don’t you think?” Her hands twitch as she tries to control herself. She wants to hug him, scream, curse him and strangle him all at once. Letting the feelings pass she lets out a sigh and slouches on the throne a bit.

In response he softly trills -- melting her heart with how utterly cute he was -- gently nuzzling his face against her legs. He lets out a content sigh, sinking into the feeling of familiar warmth. “Besides, I cannot feel my legs. You wouldn’t lay a hand on a defenseless man, would you?” She rolls her eyes as before gilding her hand down his spine. Immediately he leans into the touch on pure instinct and softly purrs, his tail curling upward and around her wrist.

“I would lay so many hands on you.” She says rather suddenly, the tone completely lacking any sort of embarrassment and, as she predicted, he squeaks with shock, his face flushing a shade of red that matches his hair. She laughs a bit before looking serious once more. “Regardless, I’m assuming you didn’t say anything sooner because your body is not fully awake yet?”

“It would be more accurate to say it’s delayed in responses. . .” He mumbles into the fabric of her gown, far too embarrassed to look her in the eye at the moment.

“And what of your mind? Your soul?” His ears perk up at the question, a bit slower than usual which confirms her concerns. Still he seems cognat enough to have a conversation so that’s a good sign at least.

“Ah yes, it would be appropriate to square that away first.” But he makes no headway on that conversation, instead snuggling up to her, softly purring once more. Her expressions softens, full of affection and adoration for her beloved.

“Raha, really. . .” She laughs, her fingers coming through the long strands of hair that frames his pretty face.

“I apologize.” He chuckles, his right hand gently resting upon her own. “Tis a strange feeling . . . to finally touch you with both of my hands _and feel it_. Truly, I never thought it to be possible.”

“Aye, many things are possible now G’raha, but really, are you okay? Beyond your physical state, I mean.” Slowly, he drags himself into a seated position, his eyes full of confidence and glee. His tail brushes against her own and she, a bit too eagerly, coils hers around his own.

“I am perfectly safe. Both memories exist within my heart and soul but neither conflict with each other. And it feels. . . as if my soul is denser than before.” A confused but thoughtful look crosses his face. “I suppose that would be contributed to surviving a sundering.”

“Oh.” She recalls Elidibus melting something like that in passing. Specifically attributing that as the reason why he couldn’t possess G’raha. . . “Well, given what we know about the Sundering that makes sense. . .” She’s pulled from her thoughts once more as her partner decides to drag himself into her lap, all too eagerly rubbing up against her. Although Miqo’tes are not cats, they do have some similar behaviors, and he was certainly trying to scent her.

“Raha,” she laughs. “There is no need to mark me as your own. You know full well that I love you.”

“Other Miqo’tes don't!” He argues back, his face flushed red. Gods. He was quite embarrassed to be outed like this but perhaps that was his own fault for assuming she didn’t know all the behaviors of Miqo’te culture just yet. But she smiles, gently bumping their foreheads together and softly pressing her lips to his own. 

Although his body fights him in protest for moving so much, he throws all he has into returning her kiss. His nails bite the exposed skin of her upper back and she wraps her arms around him like he's something truly precious. . .and to her, he is. Oh how he loves her so. . . to have those feelings affirmed again and again feels like a fantasy.

But she’s here returning each and every emotion he pours into their kiss with a passion that’s just as powerful. She is here looking at him between hooded eyes that glitter with a love that cannot simply be expressed with words alone. She’s here crying with happiness to be reunited with him and to hold him once more. 

She is here. Her love is real. And finally, he can return it without fear.

“Thank you. . . for bringing me home. . .” He whispers softly as they part.

“Anytime. . .” She smiles, tears rolling down her cheeks. They gaze into eachothers eyes once more, until laughter escapes them both and they comfortably rest in the warmth of each other’s arms. Just a little longer.

* * *

After an hour longer of basking in the sunlight and each other arms the duo decides it’s time they take their leave. Walking seems to be a bit too much of a task for him with him just waking up and all so she, without hesitation, lifted him into her arms and carried him off.

He argued for a bit but she refuted his words, simply pointing out that it was he who said his body was not fully functional and she rather not watch him stumble on his face if she could avoid it -- which in retrospect was pretty poor on her as she should have at the very least let him _try_ before making the decision -- but, thankfully, he didn’t fight it. Instead he curled up cutely in her arms, preening from the attention.

He’s just.. . . so fucking _cute_. . .

Regardless, once they make it to the first floor, she realizes something. She came here on Midnight. How the hell is she supposed to return with Raha? He most likely wouldn't be able to hang onto the reins without slipping off his back and that would be a problem.

Raha may be small and she rather light herself but she isn’t willing to test Midnight’s limits by having them both jump on him at once.

Huh. . . She really didn’t think anything through, did she? Hell, she didn’t even prepare clean clothes for him. Where would he even stay? Her -- Ajisai’s old -- room? Well, she could work with that but she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about moving into her space so soon.

“Here, love,” G’raha’s gentle voice calls out, pulling her from her thought. She hums in response and he huffs just a little. “Please, let me walk.” She raises a brow but he gives her a pleading look, which immediately wounds her heart, leaving her a victim to his cute ways. Damn him. He always knows how to weaponize that against her. 

“I wish to walk past these gates, with you at my side.” He finally explains once he realizes she had no intention of relenting. And with that determined look in his eyes and firmness in his voice she was truly unable to deny him that.

“Very well,” She sighs, carefully placing him back down on his feet. He inevitably wobbles and clutches to her shoulder for stability. She gently laughs, placing a hand on his chest to help. He rests his head in the crook of her neck as he took a few moments to gather his bearings.

Once he finds himself put together enough, he stands tall with his chin held up high, excusing this air of power and confidence that it reminds her of his time as the Exarch. She chuckles, taking his hand into her own. He smiles in return, intertwining their fingers and holding on tight, before lifting his hand up high.

Like before, the door glows and unfurls its mechanics to reveal the passage. . . and, surprisingly, Rammbroes? Even Y'Mhitra and Arya! What a surprise. 

“R-Rammbroes? Mithra too? W. . .What are you doing here?” G’raha sputters, clearly taken aback by this reunion. He looks to his partner for some sort of help but her confused expression gives no answer. He looks to the young Red Mage-in-training, a bit confused as to who or why she was here. “And you are. . .?”

“This is Arya. She’s a fellow Red Mage I train with.” Khrystie explains. “I’m not sure why she’s here although. . .”

“You left in such a hurry I was worried. . . !” The young woman frets. “Along the way I met these two. . . apparently one of your Scions friends contacted them and mentioned you may need a carriage. . . and seeing how you left the tower with someone I suppose that would be useful to you. . .”

“Haha, actually, yeah that would be.” She laughs. “I didn't think much through. I just wanted to see Raha and came as soon as possible.”

“Raha?” Y’mithra repeats, a smirk upon her lips. “My, I had no idea you two were so close.” He immediately blushes a deep shade of red and tries to hide his face behind his hand while Y’mithra leans in closer to pry more answers about the nature of their relationship. It's not helped by Rammbroes chuckling with his arms crossed, almost looking at G’raha like a proud father.

“See, what did I tell you? She’s attracted to you!” 

“Y-Yes, you did mention that. . .” Khrystie tries her best not to lose it laughing. Gods. Considering he accidentally called the Roe ‘father’ before it makes sense he would be G’raha’s prime choice in asking for advice. . . but it also explains the sad and truly sympathetic look the man gave her when he sealed himself away years ago. “Come, let us take you home. Your Chocobo looked a bit worried when we arrived at the entrance.”

“Home. . .” G’raha softly repeats, his voice wobbling with emotions. A smile made its way across his face, absolutely radiant with light. “Yes, I’d like that.”

* * *

There was a bit of an awkward air on the carriage ride home. Tragically, it was mostly from Arya due to her being incredibly out of the loop so Khrystie recounted the tale of the Crystal Tower’s exploration -- the deep depression she was in at the tins and how it was G’raha’s kindness and understanding of her origins that helped pull her from it, the nights they spend under the stars together, how she listened with such intensity as he spoke of Allagan history and how he listened to her tales accumulated from over ten years of work as the Goddess of Hope -- all while G’raha leaned against her body, eventually splaying himself across her lap, purring softly as she stroked his hair.

The young woman was rather sympathetic to her loss of someone dear to her before she could confess and became a mixture of elation and annoyance once she heard more details about The First. It was wonderful that she could reunite with someone she loved so much, but really, how could he think sacrificing his life was a good thing to do. . . ?!

Why are such good men so reckless?

However, upon hearing this Y’mithra immediately scolded him -- since she too was out of the loop -- while Rammbroes glanced back at the carriage to give him a fatherly look of disappointment. 

“You ought to be more careful with your life.” Rammbroes sighs. “You’ve survived a horrific event and saved millions of people. And truly, we are indebted to you for that act--”

“Rammbroes, _please_.” G’raha sighs with exasperation. “I’m not owed anything for doing something right.”

“ _However_ ,” the man continues without pause. “What if you have children in the future? Do you intend to leave behind your children and wife?” A . . . sound of some sort escapes G’raha -- something like a shriek and choking on his own spit.

“C-Children?! Surely you are mistaken!” Everyone tosses an unimpressed look his way which makes him shrivel in response. “I-I mean, who would want children with me. . .?”

“We already _are_ Raha.” Khrystie deadpans, totally and utterly unimpressed. Now Rammbroes wheezes. Y’mithra lets out a loud boisterous laugh, taking quite a bit of glee out of G’raha’s shell shocked face. Arya clasps her hands together in joy, congratulating the couple.

“How?! Since when?!” He demands in utter disbelief.

“Gods. How do you not know your own partner is pregnant?” Y’mithra chuckles. Sitting upright, G’raha makes a motion to the ground with both of his arms. Or it appears as much. Khrystie can very well tell he’s trying to motion between his legs as. . . on his other body the crystallization reached down there.

“Given the situation, it clearly shouldn’t have occurred!” He argues

“Just because your dick was crystal didn’t mean it didn’t work.” Khrystie bluntly, and if not crudely, states. Arya flushes red. Rammbroes pinches his brow in agony. Y’mithra’s cackling only gets louder, clutching her gutt as she nearly falls into the floor of the carriage.

“Was it blue like the tower?!” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” G’raha screams, his face nothing but the shade red -- not a peek of his natural skin tone. Of course he would go for terms from her world to express his utter agony on how the news about the impending arrival of his kits was delivered to his father figure.

“I literally asked you ‘what do you feel about kids’.” Khrystie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But you know what, you were half asleep and it’s my fault for not waking you up to properly discuss this but _immediately,_ the next day, you locked your stupid ass in your study and you would _never_ open the goddamn door. So, I assumed it _didn’t_ bother you because you didn’t punch the door down to go ‘WAIT A MINUTE!!’”

G’raha winces and his ears flatten against his head. Urianger _did_ inform him that Khrystie was spending many hours outside his study for days on end until she was forced to return to Home for the sake of her villagers. That entire time he assumed she just wanted to be close to him. Had he known sooner he would have opened the door to speak to her.

God _damn_. What a disaster they are. . .

“Yeah, so the moment isn’t the best, but does the idea of us having kids together sound. . . nice?” That previous embarrassment and frustration immediately melts away, an adorable lovesick look on his face. Blushing, he hides behind his hands but softly confirms her questions with a simple yes. 

Jesus Christ. 

He’s so sickeningly cute.

A bit dramatically, she clutches her chest.

“A-Ah, are you alright?”

“You need to stop being so fucking _cute_ Raha!” She exclaims. “How am I supposed to survive if you’re cute all the goddamn time?!” 

“I-I’m hardly cute!” He argues, still flushed red. “If anyone is, you most certainly are!” That gets her blushing in return, sputtering on her words to only get out a firm; “no you.” 

Brilliant. To think the two of them longed for each other for so long to be reduced to this once they finally had each other. . .

“I have. . . _dreamed_ of such a scenario so many times.” He confesses, taking her hands into his own and gazing into her eyes with such gentle kindness. “To live in a small house together in the forest with beautiful children. . . Sleeping side by side in a bed built for two. To gaze upon the stars together once more, even with our children at our side, we would tell them all sorts of tales about the constellations. To be surrounded by the love of someone who truly adores me. . . That has been a dream of mine for so long and now, I can _finally_ have that. I’m so truly and utterly happy. . . thank you. . .”

“You do not need to thank me for loving you. For how could I not love the man that gave me so much stability and happiness in my darkness hour? I don’t think you’ll ever understand the magnitude of the profound effect you had on me those years ago. . . I could keep going because you were there with the sunrise to greet me with a smile.”


	3. Chapter 3

With all the work Krile put into maintaining everyone’s bodies she was quite exhausted herself and knowing her friends were finally safe -- she promptly collapsed; and in an honest retrospect they should have seen that coming.

Regardless, Tataru contacted the best healer the Scions had a contract with -- Kokoto Koko -- for help. Kokoto came over right away, even deciding to waive her usual fees for a home visit, and immediately began barking orders at any available Scion to bring her a number of medical supplies. She even called in Daren to help -- who in turn called for Dante -- then proceeded to shout at him for calling over an injured healer but he fumbles to explain it’s probably for the best that his husband comes for a second healer’s opinion after that fight. 

She makes a face since she’s unsure how much use he’d actually be with him being an _alien_ and all but accepts it.

Nevertheless, Kokoto is still barking orders in the main hall once the couple arrives but stops once she notices the two of them. 

“Take that idiot to the Dawn’s Respite.” Kokoto orders, pointing to the door in question. Khrystie nods her head, leading the way with a hand on G’raha’s waist and holding his hand with her other. As one would have expected, the clinic was just as chaotic as the main halls, Daren was buzzing about with Eos at his side, using her power to help check and balance the aetheric levels of the patients -- his three partners buzzing about to provide help in anyway they could, may it be in assisting him, the three healer variations of Mel or to help organize various pieces of intel so Tataru could finally relax as well.

Thank the Twelve for Krile and Tataru, really. This entire operation would have gone up in flames for them all of not for the two of them holding down the fort while they were gone.

“Alright, show me the idiot.” Kokoto announces upon reentering the room. Emil gasps, loudly. He accuses Kokoto of not only being ‘a bad worder’ but a ‘meanie’ to his dad. She grimaces -- completely forgetting that the child was even there with her being so busy -- before brushing it aside with the excuse that they’re good friends so he knows she doesn't _mean it_ when she calls him an idiot. He doesn't quite get it but he seems to accept it and splays himself across his biological father’s lap for attention -- Thancred, of course, happily gives it to him.

The checkup is carried out in silence but with a glance about Khrystie is quick to notice that everyone is watching, curious and concerned about G'raha's well being. 

“Lucky you,” Kokoto says out loud once she steps away from the young man. “There don’t seem to be any lingering effects from your stasis sleep. Can't say I expected otherwise with you being the ‘prince’ of the tower and all.”

“I am undeserving of such a title.” G’raha laughs a bit awkwardly. Kokoto stares at him with something between annoyance and disgust.

“For once in your life can’t you accept what is given to you? You inherited the legacy of a lost civilization and you took the boons from it to raise an entire society up from the ground up. You are, without a doubt, worthy of such a title.”

“Ah. . . I apologize. . .” G’raha sputters, a bit flustered to see the Lalafell so mad. Kokoto has always had a sharp tongue and a bit brash in the way she spoke but it was always done with _care_ and, well, he never expected to be on the receiving end of said care. 

“Besides, what kind of example will you set for your children if you behave that way?” She shrugs, her expression apathetic. G’raha, again, makes that strangled sound.

“Oh, so you finally told him.”

“I mean, I did before but . . . uh, the conversation didn't . . . exactly pan out correctly.” Khrystie awkwardly explains. Kokoto sighs, clearly unimpressed.

“Anyway, he just needs some rest and he’ll be fine.” With that said, Kokoto walks off muttering under her breath about how the pair are absolute fools. 

“Children?” Thancred sputters. If she didn't know any better, he probably didn't think G’raha’s dick worked either. The very thought of that made her muffle her laughter as she turned her head away. Y’mithra, however, is not so subtle about her laughter. She’s on her sister’s bed, howling with laughter, far too happy with G’raha’s suffering. Y’shtola rolls her eyes but pats her sister on her head. This, thankfully, seems to gets her to stop laughing at G’raha to question her sister’s affection but Y'shtola simply smiles.

“Yes, triplets.” Khrystie confirms with a chuckle. Again, G’raha sputters.

“Triplets?! How can you be sure? How far along are you?!” He questions in a panic.

“Not too far along. Really, I just Know these things about my body.”

“Sounds like you two had some wild nights together.” Guydelot shouts across the room. C’tahj loudly laughs in return and G’raha looks like he wants to melt into the ground while Sanson tells the both to quiet down.

“Why? Are you jealous it’s not us having a wild night to ourselves? Have I neglected you, my darling crow?” Sanson screams with a beet red face, smacking Guydelot with the stack of documents he had in his hands. The Elzen Bard doesn’t even _care_. His eyes twinkle with delight and his smile shines with an absolutely radiant light that makes Sanson’s heart leap out his throat. . . and smacks him with more force while berating him for being so inappropriate.

Daren sighs. Hard to believe they were more or less out to kill each other at one point. They’re just so . . . soft for each other now. Not that he’s complaining. Seeing his boyfriends so happy together made him quite happy as well and they made for a formidable pair against any foe.

“Triplets?” Tataru beams, clapping her hands together. “Oh, I’m already thinking of all the cute clothes I could make for them! Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!” Suddenly, she gasps and scampers off, exclaiming that she almost forgot something. G’raha seems so baffled by her words, even more so when Tataru returns with a wrapped box, pride present on her face. “A gift from you, from all of us! Everyone gathered material from across the First, gave it to Khrystie and she delivered to me! She, however, personally made the scarf!” A scarf? He’s quite baffled by that. Why would she make him a scarf? The weather hardly calls for it. . .

But Khrystie looks so excited, her eyes shimmering with glee as she places her hands on her hips. Ah. . . He supposed he could ask about it later. G’raha opens the box with a hint of trepidation to discover a nearly folded set of clothes -- even a pair of boots! -- with the aforementioned scarf folded on top of the stack. A gift. Gods. He’s never been good with them. He didn’t exactly get many growing up and he didn’t exactly indulge himself as a student, this made accepting them as the Exarch to be awkward and even after all that time it’s no better. 

“A fitting apparel for our newest member, don't you think?” Alphinaud smiles.

And immediately, it feels as if he’s suffocating in that very moment. He simply can't wrap his head around it all. A gift. A kindness to him? A future member of the Scions? How could they offer such things to him? How is it. . . How is everything coming together so perfectly for him?

Is this. . . Is this all a joke?

It has to be.

Yes. This has to be a joke. 

After all, why would they want him to join? He tore them from family and friends and essentially held them hostage for years on the First. He lied to them -- more or less coerced one of them to _aid him_ in his lie, which inevitably had to strain relationships -- and his plan! His absolutely insane and cruel plan that nearly killed Scarlett. His plan that also resulted in them being stranded on the First longer than they shouldn’t have been there.

Sure those things have been resolved and put to rest. . .! But surely, they don’t really _want_ someone like him -- the one who caused them so much suffering and problems -- around do they?

“If I may,” A voice reaches out despite the chaos and numbing static around him. Tears in his eyes, G’raha looks away from the box to find the captain of the Bard Unit before him. The Miqo’te blinks in surprise but before he could speak the Hyur continues. “C’tahj, Guydelot and myself are outsiders to the situation and if it was not for Daren’s ties to us, we would not be privy to such information, much less here to help at the moment. Despite that, even we can see you are well loved and valued among the Scions. 

“Yes, whisking them away was quite a dangerous move, even if it was accidental, but if my eyes do not deceive me, they do not hold ill will to you now that the full story has come to light. They do understand your actions and that the intentions behind them were genuine and pure. A role in the Scions is not one easily obtained, only given to those they believe can honestly perform those duties with kindness and justice in their hearts.

“I, however, understand the feelings of being inadequate and undeserving of praise or love. A fear that no matter what you do, that the world shall only remember the mistakes you made as you journey throughout life, but you must recall that we are more than past mistakes.” Sanson brings a hand to his chest, a look of determination in his eyes.

“From my understanding you gave people the ability to thrive in a most inhospitable environment. You protected and nurtured them and in turn they fought for _you_ because they _believed in you_ despite those very dangers. I’m certain, despite the distance between you and your people now, they still feel that way and they would want your happiness.

And the people you fear would hate you. . . they’re here now, offering you everything they have to give because they care for you too. Your boldness, patience, love and care. . . These are _all_ traits of you as well despite what you think otherwise. Traits of a man that would be sung in a bard’s ballad of an extraordinary hero.”

“I-I’m not. . .”

“You _are_.” Sanson insists, his eyes kind and a gentle smile upon his face. “And I refuse to take any other answer from you. You do not have to accept it all now, but, at the very least, accept that all of us here do care for you.”

“He’s right.” Khrystie smiles. Gently, she rubs the back of his neck, earning a soft sound out of him. “I’m sorry, it must seem like a lot must be happening right now. You don't have to give us a response to joining the Scions right now. But, we wanted to give you back something nice for all you’ve done. Truly, we’re simply happy that you’re safe and sound now.”

“Besides, your wisdom and skill would be appreciated here.” Scarlett adds with a shrug of his shoulders. “And you would have a safe haven to return instead of aimlessly drifting. Having your body back is good and all, but I doubt you planned on where to go or what to do.”

Which was true.

He completely neglected that aspect of his desire to return to his old body. He asked Khrystie to take him on an adventure, but beyond that? He planned absolutely nothing because he didn’t want to _assume_ everything would work out. . . but now that it has, he’s completely unsure what his next step should be.

And honestly, returning to Sharlayan is the last thing he wants. . . Oh. But before going anywhere he has to make sure the tower is secured anyway. Something like that wouldn't be a quick job to perform if he intended to stay outside the doors this time.

“Then . . .I suppose I can stay here. . . For a little while anyway.” He says this with an awkward smile on his face, but it’s still one that fills his beloved with warmth. All of this, without a doubt, is a bit overwhelming, but she’ll do her utmost to help him find his place in this world.

* * *

And so, life moves on.

It takes time before anyone brings up the Elidibus situation to Unukalhai. He may have deflected from the Ascians long ago but that doesn't erase the fact the child was raised by him and there’s a bond there. Like it or not, in the name of justice, they basically killed his _dad._

They don’t know the boy on a personal level either due to his secretive nature so there’s no clear answer to how he’ll respond to the news. However, the gods are merciful. It seems since the last mission update, he foresaw the clash with Elidibus to be inevitable and prepared himself for the outcome where someone he valued as a father would be lost.

Although he held no ill will for their actions there were certainly cries coming from the boy’s room the following night. 

. . .

Upon her insistence, and reminder that they more or less shared a room together in the Pendants, G’raha moved into her room in the Rising Stones. Although the room initially belonged to Ajisai -- in theory -- she did not own many belongings but the ones that existed were treated with respect as they were taken care of according to Hingan culture.

Shelves were soon filled with books that took G’raha’s fancy -- many gifted or suggested to him by Krile -- or various other objects that belonged to the other partners of his beloved. Or whatever shiny trinket that caught Emil’s attention and wished to show his parents.

G’raha could only think about how crowded that shelf would become when . . . h-his kits reached Emil’s age. Gods above. The thought of him as a father scared him and thrilled him at the same time. He has his doubts about how good of a father he can be but he’s rather certain he’ll do better than his father. His father was a kind man, but he was never there for him emotionally and with the torment he faced as a child, he truly needed that.

He will--

“Huh?”

G’raha stumbles out of his thoughts as he feels something glide through his hair, pinning the long strands that frame his face back. Sitting beside him on the bed he finds his beloved with a small box containing a variety of hairclips. There’s an all too pleased smile on her face as she blinks slowly, clearly enraptured by his new appearance. 

“Is it that good?” He laughs.

“But of course.” She beams. “Besides, you kept playing with your hair while reading. I figured this would be the best solution.” Had he? He hardly noticed. G’raha laughs, sliding his book aside for the moment to stretch across the bed with grace. She lays beside him, gently stroking his cheek, a kind smile on her face, before affectionately bumping her foreheads together.

Until the door creaks open.

The two of them flail for their respective staffs in order to prepare for battle -- because who else would enter their room without knocking? -- only to find a series of familiar faces Cid, Biggs and Wedge! G’raha scrambles off the bed in surprise and excitement, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He shakes the tangled bed sheets from around his leg as he rushes over to greet the trio -- a beaming smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

They’re all a bit surprised by the force he puts into the hug but they heartily return it for the sake of their reunion after two long years. Khrystie can’t exactly blame G’raha for such a reaction. It _was_ these three that put forth the most work that would lead to a revolution to unlock the crystal tower and reengineer it to propel it across time and space to reach the First. In the end, he owed quite a bit to them.

“G’raha, you’re really here!” Cid grins, his voice choked just a bit and tears in his eyes. Biggs even gives the Miqo’te a hearty slap on the back, nearly knocking him off balance.

“As soon as we got the news we had to come over.” Wedge explains beaming. “It’s incredible to see you outside that tower! I hear it’s quite the tale although.”

“One we’ll have to listen to another day.” Cid sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know everyone has returned and all, and you’re helping them settle in once more but we came with other motives. We have. . . a situation.”

“A situation?” Khrystie repeats.

“The Empire is moving another one of its Anti-Eikon weapons.” Ah. Of course it is. She sighs a bit dramatically and, slowly, slides off the bed.

“Very well. Raha,” She exclaims his name while dramatically lifting her index finger in the air. “Pack your bags. We’re going on an adventure where you get to watch me beat the shit out of a giant robot."

“Well, I cannot say that was the adventure I was expecting,” He hums out loud before breaking out into a large grin. “however, it would be remiss of me to ignore the call of such an adventure.”   
  


* * *

It doesn't take long for G’raha to exit their shared room with his bag packed. He’s absolutely beaming, his hands eagerly tugging on the straps of said bag with his newly crafted staff strapped in place. He rushes up to Khrystie, his grin never fading for a moment.

It’s very different . . . from how everyone else is reacting to the presents of Gaius. Apparently he came with Cid but didn't bother to show himself to Khrystie, at the very least, not in her room. He simply ignored how just about every Scion was giving him a pointed look, Alisaie specifically cleaning her weapon and looking at him dead in the eye as a threat.

“Hey Gaius, I got a question that I’ve been thinking about for a while.” Khrystie suddenly brings up.

“What is it, Warrior?” He replies, his voice a deep rumble.

“Don't ask it.” Mel firmly states as he walks by the group. She gives him a side glance, wondering _why_ he would say that but in denying her an explanation it only opens up more doors so she looks back to the man to continue where she left off.

“I’ve been wondering, where exactly did you get all the white auracite to kill the Ascians?” She questions motioning to the numerous masks on his belt. “I don't really understand it but, Moenbryda’s research found that using white auracite could kill Ascians for good.” As she explains this she can see a look . . . something like existential dread crosses Gaius’s face and dead silence follows for a little. . . too long. . . 

“The _what_.” He finally questions, his voice pained.

“The. . . white auracite. . .to kill the Ascians. . .” She repeats slowly, despite now being very aware of the answer. “They’re formless. . . and the auracite consume that form. . . and on shattering it. . . this kills the ascians for good.”

The silence is incredibly painful even more so when she realizes _everyone_ is looking and listening right now. In fact, it's become so painfully obvious that he genuinely had no idea about how Ascians function and realizing that his efforts more or less opened up Ascian free real estate on some poor sap -- if they didn’t go for a dead body and all.

“This is probably a bad time to bring up how Solus is. . .er, _was_ actually an Ascian. Isnt it?” She spits out, completely flustered. This is immediately followed by the sound of Cid choking in the background while Gaius looks like he died on his feet.

Yeah.

That's not going well.

“Let us be off.” Gaius finally mutters, taking long strides to leave the Rising Stones. It looked like he was hastily trying to escape his mistakes. He didn't even ask why G’raha was coming. Not like that would stop her from letting him come along anyway.

“Was it necessary to bring that up now?” G’raha questions in a soft tone as they make their exit. Khrystie awkwardly laughs.

“To be honest, I didn't think much of it, it was just something that was on my mind for a while. I guess Mel already did the math and was probably trying to tell me I should have asked him in private. . . but something about that lion mask he has is bothering me for some reason. . . I wonder why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entire conversation with gaius was based off [this](https://twitter.com/NeneHeals/status/1299481240488214528?s=20) tweet
> 
> this is all i got planned but maybe more silly soft content for graha in the future in the usual collection


End file.
